Some things are better than words but no things are better than Billy Dee Williams. He is the original erogenous black man.
FTVS often asks: should we risk child support liability and allow the full release to occur inside? Can we place so much sexual kismet in Fortuna’s petite if not calloused hands? Of course, FTVS errs on the side of caution — why take chances? — and always pulls out. Leaving it on the tummy is also nice, and is the ultimate prophylactic.
Yes, Billy Dee, of course.
While UC Berkeley is currently nurturing a nasty crop of Keynesian syphilis among its Economics department, Cal’s Chemistry department remains at the forefront of theological psychotropic exploration.
These groundbreaking seeds were initially sown by FTVS’s favorite mind explorer and Cal alum Alexander Shulgin (co-author of the penis-inflating monographs PiHKAL and TiHKAL). Dr. Shulgin is the subject of a new documentary, which weaves a tapestry of narcotic libertarianism. Yes, Shulgin created, synthesized and self-tested more than two hundred (200) mind-altering chemical compounds. The film is inappropriately titled Dirty Pictures, and does not include gratuitous footage of the cocks or vagines.
MIDI controllers are to live PAs what dildos and strap-ons are to lesbian porn and long bus rides: essential and very nice. Among the glamorous bunch, the Monome open source concept and JazzMutant are the choice of the riches. Until today, perhaps.
A theologically and surgically resurrected Steve Jobs announced today the release of the highly sexed and thoroughly menstruated iPad. With so much geometry it looks like it may render the docile Lemur extinct. We shall see, dear reader, what Fortuna has in store. If nothing else, the iPad will force the MIDI controller market to innovate and masturbate at a much faster rate, like Bob Albatross in an airplane lavatory.
To the uninitiated FTVS reader, the history of Jungle and Drum ‘n Bass might appear long and dark, not unlike the negro phallus. However, it is in fact short and pallid, not unlike the honkey phallus. Yes, dear reader, this is besides the point. Phallus girth and pigment are not the issue.
The issue is that Jungle/DnB is perhaps the most athletic genre within the mutating electronic rubric, yet it suffers greatly from the preponderantly hideous constituency it attracts under its passive yet sustained reign. The “Junglist” demographic: pasty Caucasian males in their twenties with strong afflictions for crystal meth, low-slung baseball hats, acne, delusional elitism, hoodies, camouflage apparel, Technics clothing, and of course Technics camouflage hoodies.
To put it simply, self-identifying Junglists tend to look like Gollum and Deadmau5’s bastard child; and female followers that indulge in and enjoy the quick-tempoed brokenbeats tend to be rave scabs.
All of this is quite distressing, considering that the genre itself is robust and infinitely more sex-provoking than the current shitwave of releases under the moniker of electro (or whatever degenerate genre it is that is so wrongly masturbated by other online publications).
So, the point is this: the documentary below displays the origins of the jungle movement, and is worthy of your devoted perusal.
December is a time of celebratory decadence sparing no one, and certainly not FTVS. Every year during this gloomy yet cheerful thirty (30) day marathon, opinions are forged and labels are distributed.
December is, after all, the season of ranking the culturally syphilitic minutiae that has waged war upon our ears, mouths, eyes, and other erogenous zones in the year past. Top ten (10) lists for movies, musics, restaurants, events and books invade the media outlets with aggressive rigor, much like chlamydia.
Well, dear reader, we are pleased to share that the reputable yet obtusely rudimentary website flavorwire.com has officially recognized FTVS as “one of the best reads this season”.
It is unclear at this this stage who the “other” best reads are. An ongoing investigation allows the FTVS editorial staff to speculate that the aforementioned “other” best reads are pornhub.com and Greg Mankiw’s blog. FTVS is pleased to share such gracefully carnal and intellectual company, and will heretofore commit to showing more blatant rectal penetration of the Neo-Keynesian doctrine in the months to come.
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Fear causes hesitation, and hesitation will cause your worst fears to come true. (Bodhi, 1991)
The Women World Championship Tour (WCT) of Surfing is to the men WCT what the Paralympics are to the the Olympic Games: a cacophonous assortment of individuals watched by no one, and solely organized to avoid riots from retarded lobby groups.
Women surfers proved on numerous occasion to be a strange breed of human that is often difficult to understand. The astute FTVS surfer recalls the immensely entertaining “surf off” between Layne Beachley and Andy Irons a few years ago. The aforementioned fiasco revealed a hint of delusion of grandeur pervasive in female professional surfing.
A recent picture of Western Australian Claire Bevilacqua conveys a somehow confusing message: Girl or Sexy transsexual? Jack Colt remembers sharing waves on occasion with Mrs. Bevilacqua at the lackluster Brighton Beach in Perth Northern Suburbs before the World Tour and before her steroid enhanced diet. Her mutation is disconcerting.
Back to the topic. While most of you on the good Californian shore are dusting your step-up boards for the Thanksgiving weekend, and our islander brothers already enjoyed an early Waimea, the North Shore Venuses are calling it a quit: it is too big. FTVS understands too big, too small, too thick, too dry, and too soon are common phrases from the vaginized sex, but ponder whether they are appropriate in surfing.
Jack Colt, naked in front of Fortuna
As part of FTVS’s annual fundraiser, I embarked last week on a journey to Western Australia to meet FTVS main benefactor Alan Bond. After a rather heated meeting on Friday over dinner at the notoriously decadent C Restaurant located on the 33rd floor of the AAPT building in Perth (Western Australia, Australia), I decided to forget this ingrate of a snob and drench my anger in over-priced and under-filled vodka-Redbulls at The Villa. FTVS staff members are, after all, comfortably insulated from the economics crisis.
The Villa, formerly Xanadu, and formerly closed after some discourteous Vietnamese gang-related violence, sits at the bottom of Stirling Street in the eastern part of Perth city. Despite a sound system that is at best horrendous, the club’s proximity to Highpark’s tightly knitted network of whorehouses and whores makes it a fine establishment to visit.
The marginally uninteresting Angelino duet LA Riots were “spinning” at the Villa that night, and Lee Coombs was scheduled to play the next night as part of his Light & Dark Australian tour. The plan was to catch up with Mr. Coombs to perform on his person a groundbreaking follow-up interview. FTVS was indeed very curious to know how much his life had changed after the interview that shook the world and provided many orgasms, mostly to women and gay hairy men also known as bears (cf. Exclusive Interview of the Year 4th Edition).
It appears Fortuna had other plans for FTVS, and I learned two important lessons during this tumultuous weekend. One (1): it is unwise for a sub-average DJ crew from Los Angeles to play the same night as Britney Spears in the planet’s most isolated city. Two (2): the fate of the world sometimes ends up in the fat hands of a mongoloid doorman at a wannabe trendy club in Perth, Western Australia.
Yes, dear reader, Jack Colt was refused entry into this venue. After the first confrontation with the doorman who, based on the light in his eyes, was a certified rapist, I immediately alerted Mr. Coombs’ manager Miss Cooper in San Francisco of this inadmissible administrative cafouillage. God bless cellular technologies. Understanding the gravity of the situation, and the potential backlash this mediatic fiasco could have on the career of her client, the sexy woman tried ringing the DJ numerous times to get him to assist me. But without success.
Ed Hardy: Los Angeles, Perth, New York
After sometime negotiating, I began to lose patience in front of this doorman imbecile too ignorant to be aware of the primary importance of my presence. Fatigued and modestly inebriated, I succumbed to the way of the proletariat and began hurling robust insults at him. The monster, who shared under the yellow street light a striking resemblance with the Punisher (as drawn by Ross Andru), responded with menacing gestures that, to his credit, conveyed quite clearly the prospect of bodily injuries to be inflicted on me if I did not vacate the premises. Fortuna, you cunt.
Slightly unnerved but mostly amused by the absurdity of the whole situation, I wandered two blocks down the street and found refuge at the Court. Aptly named, this monarchic venue is a long lasting Gay and Lesbian institution that usually plays superior music, and never refuses entry to attractive young males such as myself. The night ended much later, and while the details escape me, I recall an overweight diabetic cat at some strangers’ house. Anus, I should note, was largely in tact also.
In this world in disarray, where the geometry is fading, and the theology is being strangled, you were denied, dear reader, the quality groundbreaking music coverage that you have learned to except from FTVS; and while I understand your anger and misery, I will not apologize.
We are, after all, in the cum-caked hands of Fortuna.
FTVS believed it had located the most discerning weblog in the universe of electronic music (renowned for its remarkably exclusive interviews), but apparently this jewel of netspace has some competition from Binary.
The following excerpt, discussing sonic tapestries by the likes of Sebastien Tellier and Lifelike, left the FTVS editorial staff feeling entirely inadequate:
Jesus Lee Fucking Harvey Oswald Christ. Consecrate! Dreamwave! Electronic music has hereby been baptized.
Dreamwave: the embodiment of an idea.
It is tempting to examine and massage each individual sentence in the paragraph displayed above, but FTVS does not accede to seduction easily. Nonetheless, it is of supreme importance to note that one locution in particular — “It’s about embracing melody and song and it’s about experimentation in electronic beautification” — is irrevocably the most graceful sonnet to ever be keyed with a qwerty peripheral. Yates, Keats and Frost are most certainly stimulating their formaldehyde-imbibed phalluses from their graves to this penetrating eloquence.
Rest assured FTVS has dispersed an urgent message to good friend Laurent Heinrich, also known as Lifelike, to get his perspective on this superior classification (please note that a strong sense of inclusion and belonging is aroused from acknowledging DJs by their given names). A creeping hunch suggests that dearest Laurent H. will joyously laugh and then vomit with benediction — an understandable reaction.
Censorship has never been so unnecessary! These unstoppable virtuosos also coined the long overdue term Yacht Funk for an entirely separate genre. Stacey Pullen, Jeff Mills, S Club 7 and Carl Craig may all lay their heads to rest knowing these melodic sects have been given their own parlance.
There must be something, dear reader, in the Los Angelean water, something subtle and quite frankly intangible, which allows for such journalistic mastery.
The media maelstrom continues tenaciously. Was FTVS culturally, ethnically, dare we say it, racially insensitive when using the term mulatto in its most recent exposé on Obama’s groundbreaking trip to San Francisco?
Let us be pellucidly clear: FTVS endorses President Barack Obama. Let us expand upon this unprecedented salience: FTVS endorses multi-racial sex parties and multi-racial marriage and also multi-racial reproduction — why else would Tiger Woods be on our advisory board?
FTVS believes that the world would be a much more gratifying locale were all generative procreations conducted by people of heterogeneous progenies! What does that mean? That interracial sexing is superior and exquisite, of course.
Consider what racially uniform reproduction brought us: Tara Reid, Adolf Hitler, Whoopi Goldberg, Ashton Kutcher, Star Jones, Michael Moore, Kim Jong Il — the list of human stains flows relentlessly from the gates of phyletic singularity.
Sweet Rashida, delivering her trademark come-hither gaze to Jack Colt (sex only).
Now consider what bi/multi-racial copulation has brought us: Rashida Jones. See the picture to your left for evidence of the strong and violently positive correlation between racially incongruous coition and epicurean symmetry. Need more evidence? Lou Diamond Philips. Delicious. More yet? Alicia Keys. Dear lord, her rotund ass is a smörgåsbord of miracles!
So what is the point, aside from all the points we have already made?
It is whether or not the term mulatto is racist, of course. FTVS thinks it is more a compliment than a derogation, but also knows that etymology can be a bitch.
Please click here and here for answers to the questions FTVS has already answered for you. A groundbreaking statistically economic model was developed to acquire the world’s foremost experts on racial archetypes and etymological quandaries, thus all answers provided by Yahoo are irrevocably unreliable.
FTVS is very pleased to announce its newest award, similar to the Pulitzer Prize but with more prestige and underage sodomy. The FTVS Roman Polanksi Award celebrates the finest things in subversive reproductive deviance – also known as surprise sex.
For this inaugural dispersal of dominion and eminence, FTVS feels it is very important to give the award to Roman Polanski. He has flawlessly engineered sex with underage girls for decades, always with the utmost protection (Quaaludes) and an intricate, circumscribed disregard for American injustice. Instead, he marches to his own beat, and beats off to females who are at the height of their capacity to enjoy Powerpuff Girls.
Roman, an avid FTVS reader, has always understood that the true value of fame lies not in the free hair products or the fast boats. No. It is the undying allegiance of Whoopi Goldberg (black Jew: amazing), the Weinsten brothers (fat Jews: sort of amazing), and France (not Jew: not amazing at all).
FTVS stands in solidarity with Roman. He will not be forgotten. Drugging and sexually abusing a young woman is forever, like diamonds.
Roman Rajmund Polański, accepting his FTVS Roman Polanski Award - the most prestigious acknowledgment of his career.
Paul Valery wrote Les opinions des personnes qui n'ont pas refait leur esprit selon leurs besoins réels et leurs pouvoirs vérifiables -- n'ont aucune importance qualitative. His aphorism captures the will of FTVS to bring to the masses quality, informed, and unapologetic reflections and commentaries on the state, potential state, and future state of the world.
FTVS is BA, KP, and JC. Three educated young men currently residing in the USA who spent the last three years actively studying the human condition by living and traveling together. We have occasionally fornicated with each other's women.
