Sexual ethics are probably the best kind of ethics. Are they as important as the ethics that stop your country's leader from spending all your tax dollars on giant rabbits and spray tans? No. But they do matter because sex is easily in the top ten most personal interactions you can share with another person (or people, or shrubs, or gourds, whatever works for you).
There needs to be some groundwork of trust. A code of honor, even if unspoken, that defines how this interaction will take place and what happens after. But, and there's always a but and hopefully some butts, sometimes people just really fuck that up and we're left in a grey area of what may or may not be legal, and also not entirely right.
You like putting stuff in your pudding chutes that buzzes, right? Electric toothbrushes, alarm clocks, bees. All fun. And most fun of all are the things someone took the time to design that are devoid of sharp corners and compound eyes, because they're more forgiving when knuckle deep in the squish.
Makers of the Ottawa, Canada-based We-Vibe took their love of undercarriage buzzing to a technologically advanced level when they created a vibrator that, like everything from toasters to toilet paper in 2017, comes with its own app. You can sync the app with your fidget gadget and use your phone to control it because if your phone can't operate a thing, is that thing even a thing anymore? Fucks to the no. So you use your phone to control how your giblets make pants gravy. But uh oh! Was something amiss? I bet we'll see in the next paragraph.
Seems We-Vibe, with their advanced connectivity, was just warehousing data about your doodle bopping. Which is to say every time you logged in, they went Spy Game on your ass, potentially literally. How long you used the vibrator for, the time of day, the intensity of the setting, even the temperature. If you used this, some French-Canadian tech guy may know how muggy things are down south in your Panama Canal.
Naturally, this also means they know your email address, your IP address, and your location, so it was as close to being a Peeping Tom as a company could get without having a greasy face pressed to your window. You would think a company that had devoted time and effort to helping people delve their own hidden depths would be more sensitive to issues of privacy, but then again, a lot of shit makes no sense these days. If you provide someone with a tool to perform a task, does it give you the right to know how it's used? When? In what orifice?
The company's defense to this is that the info isn't being shared anywhere, it's just being used to help them develop better products for the future, which makes sense. If you like to noodle your strudel every day after Judge Judy, that is super relevant to R&D as they work on their SuperVibe Post Judge Judy Ass Blaster 3000.
2016 saw a 53 percent increase in sexual assault on subways in New York -- that includes any kind of harassment, lewdness, or photo taking, but not rape, which is classified separately. Nearly 500 cases in one year. One case is reported about every three days in Toronto. To put it in terms that every woman who ever takes public transit already knows: Public transit is like being in a tin can full of creepy assholes. And you can get creepy asshole insurance in Japan.
Tokyo may be the worst city in the world when it comes to sexual harassment and transit. It's so bad that there are women-only subway cars and they have signs on walls telling you not to do it. A sign telling you not to use a certain door makes sense, because doors generally lead us from one place to another. It's not intuitive that maybe a door is not usable. A sign telling you not to grab another human's ass in public means your trolley isn't pulling all the way into the station.
Part of the problem in Japan is that it's viewed as hubris to complain about sexual harassment. If you tell someone you were groped, that means you're bragging about how grope-worthy you are, because what the fuck? Also, police will apparently try to talk those who do come forward out of it, because a false claim could be damaging for both parties. Again, because what the fuck? But this is where grope insurance comes in:
It's not for the women.
For $57, you can get False Groper Accusation Insurance from the extremely creatively named Small Amount and Short Term Insurance company. It will cover your legal costs if you're falsely accused of the crime, and interest has spiked greatly after one man managed to have his conviction overturned.
Inherently there's nothing wrong with the idea of being insured against a false allegation. How would you like it if one day someone came at you with an accusation you'd been fucking bumbleberry pies at the back of a Whole Foods? That can be jarring, especially when you only fuck pumpkin pies. But if you have to keep the pies in a special location so that no one tries to fuck those pies, maybe the problem isn't that there's a lot of non-pie-fuckers getting trapped by heinous lies. Maybe the problem is that we don't focus enough on just letting the pies be.
Charity is a fun concept. You have a situation that requires a lot of help, you get giving souls to help out by donating time, resources, or money, and you then do your very best to not divert any of that towards your penchant for pornography. That's how Webster's defines it, anyway. But obviously, we can't all be superstars of the charity world. So sometimes, instead of using donated funds for the purpose of Christian outreach to college campuses, we spend about a half million dollars in embezzled funds on porn. It may be a little unfair to say Jon S. Petersen, the president of World Ambassadors, only used the $475,000 of charity funds he purloined from his non-profit for porn, but let's assume a few bucks landed on porn since the only explanation offered for where any of the money went was "sex addiction." The man had a sex addiction issue and $475,000 worth of other people's money did not fix it in any way.
Far be it from me to condemn anyone for looking at porn. I look at porn. I'm dictating this article while I look at porn. I have to go back when it's done and delete all the times it picked up the audio and tossed "Unnnngh, yeah, just like that!" into a sentence. But my porn is first and foremost free because no one pays me porn money. And second, I can't justify wanking on someone else's dime. I mean, I guess literally if you gave me some dimes and it was your thing, and I liked you, then we could work something out. But you get the idea.
Petersen got found out when he made a little tax whoops by not accounting for $143,000 that he'd diverted from the charity. One can only imagine how the man got any work done at all spending that kind of money on polishing his bedknobs and broomstick.
For kicks, let's just play a game of hypotheticals and say he was paying for escorts ... and let's say an escort in Iowa, where Petersen was from, is going to charge him $400 for an hour. That's 1,187 hours or three times a day for over a year. That's so much charity boning that for the first time ever, I'm going to classify it as "too much." I don't mean to be a contrarian, nor do I wish to fill this column with a lot of hot takes, but I will say this: Without a shadow of a doubt, that is too much charity boning.
I'm not skilled enough in altruistic sex math to know how much charity boning is the right amount of charity boning but I will say that, if I were not a charitable boner but just a guy giving to charity, I would like almost none of my donation going to the head of the charity's fund for getting his dick wet.
Do you have a freebie list? It's a thing people who watched shows like Friends came up with, possibly from an episode of Friends, wherein you and your significant other have a list of five (usually) famous people that you're "allowed" to sleep with. So one partner has their five favorites, the other has a different top five and you mutually agree that, should the opportunity ever present itself, your relationship will be able to withstand you sexually violating a complete stranger who will totally be on board as well since celebrities aren't people and exist entirely as entertainment-producing cum dumpsters. It's fucking charming.
Of course, realistically, the freebie list is just a little bit of playful fantasy. I'm never actually going to meet Nicki Minaj and if I did, she would clearly never have tacos and go down a waterslide with me. I know this because I ask her on Twitter all the time. And that's just for tacos and waterslides. Yes, wooing a celebrity is best left as a pleasant delusion. Unless you're a millionaire with a soul made from moldy old Playboys and lofty expectations!
A fellow who goes by the name of Xu Yu filed a lawsuit against an Aussie escort agency after dropping $2.8 million on the promise that they'd hook him up with Megan Fox, model Candice Swanepoel, and Chinese actress Angelababy. Naturally, not one of those women showed up because, well, they're not escorts in the slightest. And your first instinct might be to shit on Mr. Yu here, but back that train up. Yu didn't necessarily do anything wrong. If prostitution is legal in Australia, and the agency advertised these women as being employees, then Yu was technically just expecting a company to provide the services that they agreed to offer. No problem there. The agency, on the other hands, are shitty scum turd blossoms for exploiting people not in their employ for fraudulent means. Arguably.
Not everyone agrees with prostitution and that's fine. Not everyone agrees the Earth is round. But, and to be clear, we're only talking about the sex trade wherein a man or a woman has chosen to engage in that act of their own free will. They aren't being victimized, trafficked, or pressured due to addiction or fear or anything else. If it's a legit employment choice, then who the fuck is anyone to shit all over that? The morality argument is more played out than Monopoly; it's just bug-up-the-assery. But that's when it's legit.
Pretending to represent people you don't represent for a sexual engagement is kind of like a restaurant showing you a big, juicy burger in the commercial and then, when you get there, they punch you in the mouth as you eat a handful of Slim Jim shavings. It's not only not what you paid for, it's them fucking you over with something they never had in the first place. And that's shitty and exploitative of not just the would-be buyer but the fake employees as well.
I dunno, man ... at first, after reading all of these stories, I was of the opinion that we should start teaching sex ethics in grade school. Now, I think we should just make sex illegal.
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