C OREGON - Oregon Commentator

commentator
OREGON
February 24th, 2012 Volume XXIX Issue V A Journal of Opinion
THE SEX ISSUE

Founded Sept. 27th, 1983
Managing Editor
Ashley Reed
Member Collegiate Network
Editor-In-Chief
Sophia Lawhead
Publisher
Ethan Bendau
Copy Editors
Ashley Reed, Sophia Lawhead, Nick Ekblad
Editor Emeritus
Lyzi Diamond
Distribution Managers
Danny Mayes, Hailey
Chamberlain
Contributors
Ashley Reed, Lauren Greenhall, Sophia Lawhead, Tony Darsy, Katie
Conley, Ben Schorr, Korbi Kay, Adam Chimeo, Hailey Chamberlain,
Maggie Brees, Rebecca O’Neill
Blog Editor
Sophia Lawhead
Associate Editor
Rebecca O’Neill
Board of Directors
Ethan Bendau, Chairman
Ashley Reed, Vice-Chairman
Sophia Lawhead, Director
Art Director
Maggie Brees
Publisher Emeritus
Ross Coyle
Humor Editor
Lauren Greenhall
Layout Directors
Ashley Reed, Sophie Lawhead
Alumni Advisory Board
Charles H. Deister ‘92, R.S.D. Wederquist ‘92
Scott Camp, ‘94, Ed Carson ‘94, Mark Hemingway ‘98,
William Beutler ‘02, Tim Dreier ‘04, Olly Ruff ‘05, Tyler Graf ‘05
Board of Trustees
Richard Burr, Dane Claussen, Thomas Mann
Owen Brennan, Scott Camp
The Oregon Commentator is an independent journal of opinion.
All signed essays and commentaries herein represent the opinions of
the writers and not necessarily the opinions of the magazine or its
staff. The Commentator is an independent publication and the Oregon
Commentator Publishing Co., Inc. is an independent corporation;
neither are affiliated with the University of Oregon nor its School
of Journalism. And, contrary to popular, paranoid opinion, we are in
no way affiliated with either the CIA or the FBI, or the Council on
Foreign Relations.
The Oregon Commentator accepts letters to the editor and commentaries
from students, faculty and staff at the University of Oregon,
or anyone else for that matter. Letters and commentaries may be
submitted personally to Room 319 EMU or placed in our mailbox in
Suite 4 EMU; phoned in to (541) 346-3721, or e-mailed to ocomment@
uoregon.edu.
We reserve the right to edit material we find obscene, libelous,
inappropriate or lengthy. We are not obliged to print anything that
does not suit us. Unsolicited material will not be returned unless accompanied
by a stamped, self-addressed envelope. Submission constitutes
testimony as to the accuracy.
E-mails sent to individual authors that are directly related to the Oregon
Commentator may be reused by the Commentator as it sees fit.
Mission Statement
The Oregon Commentator is an independent journal of
opinion published at the University of Oregon for the campus
community. Founded by a group of concerned student
journalists on September 27, 1983, the Commentator has had
a major impact in the “war of ideas” on campus, providing
students with an alternative to the left-wing orthodoxy promoted
by other student publications, professors and student
groups. During its twenty-six year existence, it has enabled
University students to hear both sides of issues. Our paper
combines reporting with opinion, humor and feature articles.
We have won national recognition for our commitment to
journalistic excellence.
The Oregon Commentator is operated as a program of the
Associated Students of the University of Oregon (ASUO) and
is staffed solely by volunteer editors and writers. The paper is
funded through student incidental fees, advertising revenue
and private donations. We print a wide variety of material,
but our main purpose is to show students that a political philosophy
of conservatism, free thought and individual liberty
is an intelligent way of looking at the world–contrary to what
they might hear in classrooms and on campus. In general, editors
of the Commentator share beliefs in the following:
•We believe that the University should be a forum for rational
and informed debate–instead of the current climate in
which ideological dogma, political correctness, fashion and
mob mentality interfere with academic pursuit.
•We emphatically oppose totalitarianism and its apologists.
•We believe that it is important for the University community
to view the world realistically, intelligently, and above
all, rationally.
•We believe that any attempt to establish utopia is bound
to meet with failure and, more often than not, disaster.
•We believe that while it would be foolish to praise or
agree mindlessly with everything our nation does, it is both
ungrateful and dishonest not to acknowledge the tremendous
blessings and benefits we receive as Americans.
•We believe that free enterprise and economic growth,
especially at the local level, provide the basis for a sound society.
•We believe that the University is an important battleground
in the “war of ideas” and that the outcome of political
battles of the future are, to a large degree, being determined
on campuses today.
•We believe that a code of honor, integrity, pride and rationality
are the fundamental characteristics for individual
success.
Socialism guarantees the right to work. However, we believe
that the right not to work is fundamental to individual
liberty. Apathy is a human right.
2

Editorial
Hello, and welcome to The Oregon Commentator. I’m your Editorin-Chief,
Sophia Lawhead, and here we’ve got one of our tastiest treasure
troves of earthly (and unearthly) delights. Yes, it’s the Sex Issue, where we
take a break from writing about booze and guns to spend some QT on all
things boo-tee.
We’re not the only ones here in Track Town that are acting on our tingly
feelings. Emotions have been running high all over campus. First we started
off the year with ASUO Vice President Katie Taylor’s steamy matrimonial
scandal, where it was revealed that the veep is actually married to former
OSPIRG chairman and alleged Muppet Charles Denson. Taylor did not
seem to think that her influence over the budget of a program run by her
husband would count as a conflict of interest (and surprise, the PIRG got
their requested 97 percent budget increase), but hey, the ASUO has never
been big on honesty or transparency.
And neither are they big on loving one another, apparently. Senator
Lindy Mabuye, a woman of color and candor, wrote of her experiences in
Senate in an opinion letter to the Ol’ Dirty this past week:
Full disclosure: Sophia Lawhead is
herself a Muppet.
“Then it hit me. At first, I was in denial. There is no way I was being treated differently because of what
I look like...I was surprised that I was being marginalized and silenced by the very people that claim to be the
biggest allies to minority groups. No one wanted to deal with the blatant racism and sexism that I had been
publicly submitted to. I never received a genuine apology from those responsible, and it’s because they genuinely
don’t believe they are to blame for my reaction. Apparently, according to said ‘allies’ of people of color,
perhaps if I were not so aggressive in my argument I wouldn’t receive such averse treatment, and perhaps if I
would be more aligned to what they deem to be worthy of a person of color I would be treated better.”
As someone who has attended a Senate meeting or two, I can attest that Senator Mabuye is not exaggerating.
Like many groups on campus dedicated to “promoting diversity” or “empowering students,” the ASUO
takes very little real action in pursuit of their goals. It exists mainly as a resume builder for the overprivileged
overachievers who use their meager power with a deep sense of entitlement and superiority over the students
they’re supposed to protect. Any ASUO member who supports OSPIRG doesn’t give a flying fuck about
students or their school--they care about getting a job after graduation. However, I shouldn’t be such a bitch;
apathy toward your peers is a human right. Who knew the ASUO would ever agree with the Commentator.
Yes, women of color aren’t feeling the love, and women in general at UO are beginning to see that no one
really gives a fuck about their safety or well-being. There are been three sexual assaults this year, all in the
campus area, the last one happening in front of a crowded party. On the part of the girl’s friends, the partygoers,
and the EPD’s “Party Patrol,” it really takes the bystander effect to a whole new level. Perhaps if the girl
had been holding an open container there would have been some police presence. As this University gets less
and less safe for females, it makes one wonder why no one seems to be riled up about it. Besides their mandatory,
terrifyingly vague emails, the administration has done nothing. Meanwhile, the Siren and Student Insurgent,
both of whom purport to fight for justice for the marginalized, haven’t made a peep on the subject. It
would seem that no one at UO gives a shit about women, which is a little ridiculous considering that we are in
the majority here. What do you say, ladies? Occupy the streets until there’s a pepper spray in every purse and a
pedi-cab on every corner! Wait, there’s a sale at Urban? Hold on let me get shoes.
Before I jet to snatch some hella fitted headscarves, I want to thank you for picking up this little publication.
This issue is truly full of a buttload of hot tips and titillating tales to get you through the cold Eugene
winter.
Enjoy babies, slamma ja’mama.
3

Contents
Contents
[Departments]
Nobody [pg. 6] SPEW [pg. 30]
[Features]
Drunk Restaurant Reviews: White Castle ..........................................................
Kat O. Nein tellls you about the best place to get a happy meal
Stripperahs in da 541...................................................................................................
Farrah Thunderbolt spreads it wide open
Anal Leakage..................................................................................................................
The Barreness brings us all the hot goss about Tammie’s pooper
Fictional Characters With Whom I Would Copulate........................................
K. Lee Shiznit gives us the lowdown on these FCIWWIWCs.
Sex, Drugs and Loving Your Holes........................................................................
Mary Magdalene gives us the low-down on the only thing green and sexy.
Leatherwoods: Sexy Summer Camp....................................................................
Who needs canoes and marshmellows when you’ve got whips and chains?
Thicky’s Corner................................................................................................................
Kevin Poehner wants you to get your info straight from the source.
The Top 5 Up and Cumming Porn Stars............................................................
Anita P. Nisse gives you the money shot on these newcomers.
High School: A Real Pain in the Ass......................................................................
Hugh Schlongg digs deep in a high school ass-scandal
How to Distract Your Lover from Your Hideous Genitals.............................
Ben Dover speaks from experience.
Anonymous Sex Stories..............................................................................................
Our sinful staffers spill their loads
A Strip-Club Novice Tells All.......................................................................................
Jack Mehoffe on a night he’ll never forget
True Life: I Was a Coke Princess...........................................................................
The crazy narcotic sexy-dream that almost was
¿Te Gusta…Uh, Sexo?..................................................................................................
Adventures in Amor With A Dude Who Really, Really Didn’t Speak English So Well
30 Things to Do With a Naked Man.....................................................................
Tony D. gives you the down and dirty straight from the pages of Cosmo
What’s Your Fantasy?..................................................................................................
Anita L. Nisse puts the most tried and true roleplay fantasies to the test
Chimeonnaise’s Boner Jamz.....................................................................................
Some tunes so you can rock/jam out with your cock/clam out
Brotherly Love...................................................................................................................
Haywood Jablowmie’s bromance nightmare
S.I.L.Fs: Senators I’d Like to Fuck............................................................................
Betty Nailder gives us the 411 on our nation’s hottest legislators
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
18
19
20
22
23
26
27
28
4

NOBody Asked US, BUT...
asks ...
7
What Turns You On?
sudsy says:
“Baby I’m no
weatherman,
but you can
expect a
few inches
tonight.”
11
12
13
[Santa Claus]
Long, Hard
Chimneys
[On The Rocks]
Attention
Bartending School
THe DIRTY SANCHEZ
Ingredients:
1 part vodka
1 part gingerale
All parts pooped in
Stir with finger, lick,
drink it up and no
crying.
[Fraternity Boy]
The Word ‘No’
[Sorority Girl]
Blood Diamonds
why doesn’t that hot
girl want to fuck me ?
[Beetlejuice]
[Lightswitch]
Saying My Name Fingers
45%
20%
15%
10%
10%
%I’m fat and ugly
She’s racist against the irish
wait.. she doesn’t ?
She’s a lesbian Dude i
swear to God.
I dont have hands
5

RX Delicious
Drunk Restaurant
Reviews
White Castle
It probably doesn’t shock anyone
when I say that any foray into
Springfield is probably going
to end in tears and regret. That
probability increases exponentially
as the weekend approaches, so by
the time you hit Saturday night,
your at shit ground zero. However,
I’m pleasantly shocked to say that
I actually had a decent evening in
Springfield this weekend, during a
visit to the White Castle on Gateway.
True to form, after a couple
bottles of whiskey and a bowl or five,
my bros and I decided it was time to
stuff our gullets with greasy goodness.
After waking up the DD Travis and
pulling him out of a puddle of Jäger, we
made our confused way to the closest
fast food joint we could find. After we
missed a Taco Bell and an IHOP and
a KFC, we finally forced the T-Man
to pull over next to the Best Buy in
the parking lot of a White Castle.
The place got a thumbs
down right through when the door
the cashier asked for our IDs (way
too hardass, we weren’t that drunk).
Their menu was kind of weird, too,
with everything spaced out around a
dining room (which I would modestly
describe as football-field-sized) for
us to find on our own. It was almost
like a bistro, if bistros were full of
lingerie and dildos and gay porn.
Yeah, there was that too.
For reasons unknown, White Castle
has apparently decided to expand its
offerings. That seemed kind of weird
to me, since there wasn’t a square
hamburger to be found and it was hard
to construct a sandwich out of frilly
panties (Nathan had more luck with
the sexy board games and the edible
lube). While Kassandra sifted through
a rack of condoms for salt packets
and her boyfriend Fish yelled about
about not knowing the Castle had a
Redbox while pulling anal DVDs off
the shelf, my hankering for faux-meat
led me to the back wall, where I found
a different sort of faux-meat. Turns out
It was kind of like this, except with less
Neil Patrick Harris and more fleshlights.
they have an impressive selection of
vibrators at White Castle these days,
set up so they could be tested, which
I guess is cool since it’s kind of like
giving out free samples. Might as
well, when you’re the size of a Costco.
Everything was a bit blurry
after that—I remember Trav trying
to drink from what he thought was
a Coke before getting a mouthful o’
nine tails, Kass laughing about the
handcuffs that she found in a sandwich
box, and Jason passing out in a copy
of Big Dicks Monthly and muttering
about crayons for his placemat. I’m
pretty sure security tossed us out after
Kass’ beau knocked over a rack of
massage oil (dude, he was so drunk)
and we somehow stumbled our way
back to the car with some piecemeal
bits for our trouble (Jason somehow
managed to hold on to that BDM,
and said it was totally on accident).
It was only as I was passing out on
Kass’ couch that I found the prize that
came with my Whitey Meal—a purple
bullet with little cartoon flowers on
the box, somehow stuffed into my
pocket. This shit got classier everyday.
I have since discovered that,
apparently, the closest White Castle
to Eugene is in Minnesota, so it looks
like we found a knock-off. Either
way, my guess is we’ll be hitting
the place up the next time my posse
is dying for somethin’ fryin’. Or
vibin’. Mayan? Something, whatever.
In conclusion, if you love
plastic protein, hit up the White
Castle on Gateway. At the very least,
it’ll be worth it for the prize inside.
Kat O. Nein is the managing editor of
the Oregon Commentator, and takes,
“Thank you, come again,” the wrong way.
6

uncovered MAIL CALL
Strippahs inda
541
When I say strip club, what do you think of? Red lights? Sticky
bathrooms? G-Strings? Creepy old men?
Well, if you have never explored just what a strip club could
mean to you, look no further. This tantalizingly mysterious career
that draws in so many bright young ladies is no longer out of reach,
thanks to this nifty guide to the hottest titty bars in town! Plus, I’m
a woman, so you KNOW I’m being totally objective!!!!!
Okay, so until recently I had only been to this one AWESOME stripper spot I know a lot of you are familiar with:
the infamous Jiggles, conveniently located just off I-5 in Tualatin. Needless to say I was pretty excited to see what
good Eugene was prepared to shove in my face. I was not disappointed. Bottoms up, bitches!
THE SILVER DOLLAR
8==> 8==> 8==>
Cover: $3, Full Bar
This place is a local favorite.
It would have gotten a 4-boner score
but I am averse to cover charges -
even though $3 isn’t bad, I want to
save my dolla bills for the sexy ladies.
The decor is suitable, dim enough that
your shame blends into the wallpaper,
but bright enough that you can see
your buddy getting motorboated next
to you. The girls won’t let you do a
tequila luge off their butt cracks, but
they’re still super hot and will gladly
serve you normal shots if you’re into
that. The real claim to fame here
is drum roll: the HOT TUB AND
SHOWER STAGES. Talk about wet
dreams. Naked women splashing
around having a blast for YOU!
Bring a change of undies.
And, as if this place could get
any better, there is a legit Champagne
Room so you can bust out that
Chris Rock impression you’ve been
working on.
THE NILE
8==> 8==> 8==> 8==>
Cover: No, Full Bar
This place is badass.
Remember in 300 when that weird
gimp hunchback stumbles into a
room full of exotic big titty babes
eating grapes off each other? That’s
what The Nile is like, but with liquor
instead of grapes and much better
looking clientele. You walk inside
and are immediately transported to
a kinky Egyptian adventure, and the
fun begins in the kitchen!! A word
of advice, stuff your face with their
awesome greasy food while your
dancer is on. It will fill your soul
with unsurpassed joy. Then chug a
beer and go nuts. This is the place
to overindulge!
CLUB 1444
8==>
Cover: $3, Full Bar
For those of you who were
fortunate enough to experience The
District before it closed down, Club
1444 is its dirty country cousin. The
exterior could use a coat of paint, and
the inside is just sad. According to
one patron who was bored enough
to review this place of his own free
will, every so often 1444 is positively
“hopping, and there are hoes all over
the place! Wicked awesome!” How
nice, they cater to virgins, too. So,
if you want to go somewhere to feel
better about your pathetic, lonely life
without all the judgement, go to this
place and buy your happiness back
for $20.
Farrah Thunderbolt is a contributor to
the Oregon Commentator, and is still
looking for a butt crack to do tequila luge
off of.
7

=current affairs
LOCAL COLLEGE STUDENT
TRIES ANAL, SHOCKS ALL
EUGENE, OR- Disappointment,
confusion and shock were just a few of
the highly charged emotional reactions
experienced at Max’s yesterday upon
discovery that a friend of area residents
Tara Hartfeld and Karen Smith had tried
anal sex. Their comrade, 21-year-old
Tammie Langhorn, was not expected
to have done such an unthinkable act,
especially because she was raised with
Christian values and loves puppies.
“If I had known, I would never
have used that as my ‘never have I ever’
during ten fingers!” Hartfeld, a Gossip
Girl addict currently employed at The
Buzz Cafe told a group of reporters
this morning. “I just wanted to see if
the rumors about Jimmy were true! But
this! I can’t believe she didn’t tell me!”
Smith had similar feelings about
the discovery. “I thought we were
besties,” Smith explained, “like, real
besties. I told her everything, even
about my blacked-out hand job at
80’s Night. But she didn’t even trust
me to tell me about this! I don’t know
if I can trust her anymore. Ever.”
Tragically, there is nothing the
girls can do about this discovery un-
til they get to be alone with Langhorn
during their weekly coffee date.
“I still can’t believe how we found
out,” Smith explained. “We were all
just sitting around at Max’s and the
conversation was getting boring. Jimmy
suggested we play King’s Cup, but
that sounded dumb, so we decided to
play Ten Fingers instead. And let me tell
you, I was ready to dish out some dirt!”
But the sense of excitement the
group was experiencing would shortly
turn into confusion and dismay.
Self-proclaimed ladies’ man and
friend of Hartfeld and Smith, Jimmy
Conso, commented on the discovery.
“Out of nowhere, and I really mean
it dude, Tara gave me this look, and
then was like, ‘Never have I ever
tried anal,’ and everyone was staring
at me, and all the sudden I look over,
and there’s ‘lil Tammie putting down
a finger. I couldn’t believe it! So what
do you think I did? I yelled ‘OHHHH,’
as loud as I could and pointed at her.
Dude, I couldn’t believe that shit!”
Investigators report that many
men claim to be the individual who
performed anal sex on Langhorn,
Tammie Langford, minutes
after the incident.
most notably Jimmy and Puddles the
Duck. However, upon examining her
sheets it appears there are no traces of
santorum whatsoever, leaving Harfeld,
Smith and the rest of community
to question the exact details
of this interaction.
The Barreness is the humor editor if the
Oregon Commentator, and can provide
santorum testing for sheets of all
sizes and materials.
Are you a baller?
Prove it.
Join the Oregon Commentator
Looking for artists, writers,
editors, bloggers
www.oregoncommentator.com
editor@oregoncommentator.com
EMU Suite 319
8

• Mr. Feeny (Boy Meets World)—
You know
from the
twinkle
in his eye
that the ‘ol
whippersnapper
has a few
tricks up
his sleeve.
He was always trying to teach Corey
and Sean some valuable lesson, and
I wouldn’t mind him teaching me a
thing or two with that ruler he held so
authoritatively. Discipline is kinky.
• Scar (The Lion King)—I don’t
know what it is, but Scar is wicked
sexy. Something about him is just
SO wrong. Maybe it’s the fact that
he killed his
own brother.
Or that he
attempted
to conquer
Pride Rock
and make
all of those
goofy little
hyenas his
minions. Or you know, the fact that
he’s a lion. But with Scar it’s not
about the beastiality, just the brutality.
• Waldo (Where’s Waldo?)—He
seems like an exhibitionist,
down
to do the dirty
in public; and
yet, other people
would have a hard
time catching us.
Public intimacy.
Intriguing.
F.C.W.W.I.W.Cs!
“Fick-ee-wicks”
Ficional Characters With Whom I Would Copulate
• Spike (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)—Granted,
we couldn’t get breakfast
the
next
morning
without
him dissolving
in the
sunlight,
but
that’s a
small
sacrifice
to
pay for
his amazing bone structure. Mmm, I
could play tic-tac-toe on those cheekbones
all night long. Plus if he got
naughty and tried to bite me, I could
just stake him in the heart. Problem
solved. If only all of the men who
backsass me could be dealt with so
easily…
• Skeeter (Doug)—Strictly to answer
three questions: #1. His skin color is
blue, but is he blue everywhere? #2.
Is his semen
the color—
and consistency—of
Nickelodean
slime? #3.
Does he
make that
HONK,
HONK noise
during his
moment of
bliss? Or does he have a special sound
effect reserved for that, one only his
lovers have heard?
imaginary friends
• Tobias (Arrested Development)—
I’ve never done it with a Never Nude.
Curiosity killed the K Lee.
• Chef (South Park)—For obvious
reasons. If they are not obvious to
you, then you have not heard his songs
“Make Love To Ya Woman,” “Good
Love,” and “Feel Like Makin’ Love.”
Clearly, the man knows what he is doing,
and he can cook.
• Tuxedo Mask (Sailor Moon)—The
tuxedo, the roses, the prince factor, the
ability to appear just in the knick of
time--need I say more? Tuxedo Mask
was the obsession of my youth, and
now he is the reason behind my unrealistic
expectations of modern men.
Oh well.
K. Lee Shiznit is a contributor to the Oregon
Commentator and may or may not
have a Hunger Games roleplay costume.
9

Self love
Sex,
Drugs
and Loving
Your
Holes
Kim Marks is very much a Portland
woman. She’s an intelligent,
hipster-esque lady originally from San
Francisco who loves protecting the environment,
eating organic food products,
getting down and dirty and, most
importantly, selling sex toys and lube.
I met her in late January at a
lecture on polyamory by Janet Hardy
(which you can read about on the Oregon
Commentator blog), where she
was promoting some products from
her recently opened sex shop based
in Portland called As You Like It: The
Pleasure Shop. I purchased a bottle of
organic lube (Lubricant Pure) and later
had a very enjoyable night with said
lube (my boyfriend was there, too, I
think). So, I decided to contact Marks
to learn more about what she did.
As You Like It launched its
online store in January 2012 and is
one of the first sex shops in Portland
that boasts locally-made, organic and
body-safe products. It prides itself on
running a business that is gender and
sexuality inclusive, body and sex positive,
and “eco-sexual”. They sell everything
from lubes to dildos, fetishwear
to harnesses, books and DVDs
to something called “masturbation
sleeves.” I’ll leave it to Google Images
to tell you what those are.
Marks got her idea for an ecofriendly
sex shop in 2007 while she
was recovering from thyroid cancer.
For the past seventeen years, Marks
had been deeply involved with the
environmental movement, but her experience
with cancer changed her outlook
on what she wanted to do with
her life.
“Surviving cancer was and is
a reality check,” she explained. She realized
that there wasn’t an eco-friendly
sex shop in Portland, or the greater
Northwest, and it within that niche that
Marks knew she could find a market.
“Eco-friendly” toys weren’t a popular
subject in conversations about sex,
and this was something she wanted to
change.
“It’s easy to talk to people
about the cancer-causing toxins they’re
putting into their bodies when it comes
to food and shampoo,” she said. “But
there is a lot of silence around sex toys
and lube.” Through her shop, Marks
is hoping to put an emphasis on bodysafe
products that don’t contain processed
or toxic chemicals and to create
awareness about what exactly we’re
putting on/into our naughty bits.
The more I thought about what
she said, the more I realized how true it
is. Every year there’s a new big scare
about some product you need to stop
drinking, eating, wearing or smelling
because it gives people a higher risk of
such-and-such cancer or disease, but
the conversation about body-safe sex
toys is, to my knowledge, non-existent
in the media. Why should that be? As
Marks told me, she meets all different
kinds of people in her line of work
“from environmental activists to allies
in First Nation groups, to all the moms
I know, to card-carrying NRA members.”
Most of the people you know
are probably using sex toys or lubes of
one sort of other, but why aren’t people
asking what’s in those products?
This issue is something that
affects the majority of Americans, not
just a certain group of people. Even
your grandma probably has a finger
vibrator stashed under her Bible in
case of emergency. Being safe about
the chemicals you put into your body
is especially important to younger people,
such as teenagers and college age
adults. Research on the levels of toxic
chemicals in sex toys is limited and
studies have only been conducted in
the past few years, but one study done
by Greenpeace revealed that seven out
of eight sex toys analyzed contained
one or more phthalates in concentrations
of 24%-49%. Phthalates are used
in numerous sex toys and products (as
well as plastic toys, medical devices,
appliances, etc.) as softening or jelling
agents in plastics. A number of US government
agencies, including the Food
and Drug Administration (2002), the
Center for Disease Control (2011), and
the Environmental Protection Agency
(2005), have studied the effects of different
forms of phthalates on humans
and mice, and shown that increases in
10

Happy trees
this chemical can lead to higher rates
of infertility, issues in child development,
and abnormal growth. It is considered
by some agencies (EPA and
Department of Health and Human Services
[2009]) to be a possible cancercausing
chemical.
“Getting young adults informed
about these sorts of issues is
important because many of them are
just getting interested in sex toys for
the first time,” Marks said. That’s why
it’s one of her business’ main goals to
keep toxic chemicals out of the bedroom,
and especially out of regions
like the vagina and anus that are particularly
sensitive to chemical imbalances.
On a lighter note, As You Like
It prides itself on being as open as possible
to as many ideas of sex as possible.
As Marks explains, “we wanted
to be the shop that stood up and said,
‘Hey, maybe you’re not straight,
maybe your body isn’t that of Ryan
Reynolds or Jennifer Aniston, but you
know what—you can have awesome
sex too.” The employees are the sort
of people you can ask about anything
to do with sex, and they’ll give you an
honest and thoughtful answer.
In any case, I figure any person
who wants to spread more sexual
joy while selling products that are
safe, fun and friendly is a nicer person
than the vast majority of human beings
in the world.
To learn more and buy some awesome
products, you can visit As You
Like It online at asyoulikeitpdx.com.
You can also friend them on Facebook
or follow them on Twitter, where you
can also receive updates on events and
new products.
Mary Magdelene is the art director of
the Oregon Commentator, and knows
what every one of these things does.
Leatherwoods:
Sexy Summer Camp
This year, outside Salem in the middle of August, a group of outdoor enthusiasts
will spend three fun-filled day at summer camp. If you’re like me, those words
bring to mind summers of fun and puberty mixed into a vanilla-chocolate swirl of
nostalgia, filled with campfires and wildness survival classes and trying to get a peek
into the boys’ cabin after tromping back from ye old swimming hole.
Well get that out of your head and take a seat, because this Salem gathering
isn’t your grandpa’s summer camp (at least I hope to God not), and over there,
you’re gonna get more than a peek.
Leatherwoods, hosted annually since its launch in 2002, can be described
no better than by the first words on the event’s homepage: “Leatherwoods is a
membership-only BDSM campout, held 8 miles east of Salem, Oregon which is
open to all sexual persuasions, at a kink-friendly campground with opportunities
for some delightful outdoor scenes. Once on site, the area is all clothing-optional.”
The event’s founder “Miss Reilly” recalls telling her partner (while on the way to
an S&M meet-up in Denver in 1985), “I’m going to create something some day.
I don’t know what exactly, but I want it to be outdoors, with trees and whips and
rope.” After years of planning, the first Leatherwoods took place in Tiller, Oregon,
with 30 individuals attending. Now in its tenth year, Leatherwoods has moved to
private campground space at the doorstep of the Capitol, and is now what event
representative ‘Adak’ calls “One of the BEST outdoor scene/multi orientation/
BDSM lifestyle events in the country.”
A curious perusal of the event’s website reveals information and layout
bewildering in their normalcy. A section on Site Amenities (“Plenty of tent camping
spaces,” “Covered pavillion,” “Cold water”) immediately precedes another on
Dungeon Amenities (“4 St. Andrew’s crosses,” “Spanking benches,” “Suspension
set-up”). A notice about a lack of cell service sits right beside a warning that clothing
is required in the entrance area at all times. A set of links on a plain sidebar reveals
the promise of additional information on the formal schedule of events, workshops,
presenters, vendors, and an auction (though what they’re auctioning, I’m afraid to
ask). The whole thing resembles a car show or a Star Trek convention, if the cars
had people tied to their hoods or anyone at a Star Trek convention were getting
laid. While most pages are currently blank awaiting the arrival of info on the 2012
season, the upkeep of the site promises that it will soon be up and running. (Or tied
to a picnic bench getting flogged, whichever it prefers.)
This year, the event is set to run from August 17 – 19. Registration begins
April 1, so any interested parties still have time to save the date. Plus, for our
stauncher readers who worry about pulling a Larry Craig, fear not: the camp is quite
far away from the nearest road, and photography is strictly regulated.
Sure, it may not be your good ol’ American summer camp, but if you’re the
kinky sort and are looking for a different kind of vacation, consider dropping these
fine folks a line. Who knows? Maybe getting tied naked to a tree will let
you commune with nature or something—and, hell, it’s a lot better than
mess-hall slop and losing at capture the flag.
Kat O. Nein is the managing editor of the
Oregon Commentator, and knows
what happens at band camp.
11

Q and A
Thicky’s
Corner
Kevin Poehner’s penis
answers all your
most personal questions
Thicky, I am in love! I recently realized
but haven’t said the three
magic words to my girlfriend yet.
When should I tell her I love her?
If you are absolutely sure of the way
you feel, it’s only fair to both of you
to let her know, but prepare yourself
for the possibility that she may not
feel as strongly towards you at this
point. Remember, every relationship
has a person that loves the other one
more, but if you guys have something
good that’s built on trust and mutual
attraction, don’t get insecure if
she doesn’t reciprocate immediately.
Be honest with her, but don’t pressure
her. If she loves you back you’ll
be able to get her to do anything you
want in bed and you don’t want a
failed power play to hold you back
from some seriously dope bangin’.
Any tips for preventing whiskey
dick?
For any actual men who might be
reading this, “whiskey dick” (or as
it’s referred to by real men, “weak
penis”) is the inability to achieve and
maintain a full erection when drunk
off of any type of liquor, most notoriously
whiskey. I suggest you go back
to Target and buy a few less constricting
pairs of panties, you fucking pussy.
Dear Thicky, I’m a freshman and
a virgin and didn’t get laid fall
term even though I was certain it
would happen once I got to college.
I’m not Taylor Lautner or
anything, but I’m not ugly by any
means and my penis is a pretty decent
size especially compared to
my roommates. Still . . . “it” hasn’t
happened yet. What should I do?
If there is one thing that Thicky
knows about, it sure as shit isn’t having
trouble getting laid. Still, I have
seen many cases like yours and I can
offer you this: be patient and don’t go
into every party thinking that tonight
could be the night. While it’s true that
some girls can smell desperation and
will take you if they can’t do any better
that night, the rest can smell it too,
and they think it’s rank. So, be proactive.
Make a hot friend who will never
fuck you in a million years and use
her when you go out--this will signal
to other girls that at least one of their
kind will bother talking to you. If there
is one thing girls hate, it’s other girls,
so seeing you talking to another girl
will send them into the kind of jealous
hysteria that one can only fuck
their way out of. It’s science, man.
Does the phrase “Beer before liquor,
never been sicker, liquor before
beer, you’re in the clear,” hold
any weight or is it just bullshit?
I’ve done a lot of research on this, and
I can tell you that there are very few
drinking-related mantras that have so
thoroughly divided the world’s shitbags
as this one. It’s important to note
here that I’m not a little bitch and can
drink impressive amounts of all types
of alcohol, regardless of any prescribed
order. However, I think its best to remember
a few rules for when you’re
drinking like you really mean it: if you
drink it fast you can’t taste it; you won’t
have to pee as much, either; and girls
think it’s awesome if you hold your nose
while taking a shot. Also, try drinking
Bacardi Silver. Nothing makes you feel
good about your tolerance like tying a
few on with some high school girls.
My boyfriend never closes his
eyes when he is kissing me. Does
that mean he doesn’t like me?
Part of the mystique of kissing lies
in tuning out other senses and losing
yourself in the moment. There is real
magic in what you feel in that instant
when your lips meet. Sounds tend to
fade away, time moves differently.
Hands touch hands, grasping clumsily
but with a pureness of emotion that
can’t be manufactured and could never
be faked. Lust, passion, intense longing
to keep what you felt as your lips first
met alive. There’s a palpable feeling in
the air that so completely enters both
of you as you slowly close your eyes
and press your mouths together that almost
nothing could be more important
than this moment. It’s as if nothing
has ever felt so good, you have never
anticipated anything more in your
life. And when you feel that pure liberation
of giving yourself over to that
rawness and sincerity, you just know
that if his eyes are open he doesn’t
feel it at all. Probably cheating on you.
12

THe future
Anita P. Nisse Reveals
The Top 5
Up & Cumming
PORN
STARS
Jordin Vanic
Jordin has found her market in appealing to
the “girl next door” market; she’s definitely
the kind of girl you could bring home to mom.
With her natural beauty and sexy curves,
she’s everything you’re looking for but could
never find in a college town like Eugene.
Sticking with the innocent story, Jordin isn’t a
porn star in the usual sense. Rather than getting
pounded on camera, Jordin simply created
her own webshow for everyone’s viewing
pleasure: “Cleaning with Jordin.” She
simply cleans her house, plays with her cat,
makes hot chocolate, gets in soapy pillow
fights with her best friend, all of the typical
things girls do, but she does it all in lingerie.
Tune in every Tuesday night for her
steamy study sessions with Kerrie!
Haydn “Meatball Sub” Cieri
This young stud hails from Philadelphia,
and is fresh to the porn industry as well as
college. However, just because he’s new
doesn’t mean that he doesn’t know what
he’s doing. He’s starred in over 30 movies
since he started college, 17 of which
have taken place in his dorm room (only
four were secretly recorded on his laptop).
Haydn decided to cash in on his Italian
heritage, and has found a way to incorporate
marinara sauce and parmesan into almost
every one of his films. Whether he’s
licking it off some willing girl or using it
as body paint, Haydn knows how to get
creative. Be sure to check out his films,
which can be found on Porntube and 4chan.
Sam “Chops” Hunt
A true ladykiller, Chops has a full arsenal of
charm. If you don’t fall for his smooth lines, he
will undoubtedly knock you down by playing
some sappy ballad on his trumpet. You might
think that it wouldn’t be sexy to watch a guy blow
a trumpet and wink at you, but Sam does it right.
Sam is a good porn star because he works his
way into your heart with his deep blue eyes, and
then gets you in the panties with his ten-inch penis.
He’s the sensitive musician of the porn industry,
often playing a poet or guitarist in love,
rather than the usual delivery boys and karate
instructors. Also, the porn that Sam stars in is
definitely targeted at the ladies, and often puts a
lot of focus on the foreplay. I’ve even seen a few
movies of his where he brings the girls flowers
first. Sam is definitely an unconventional porn
star, but the ladies love it. You can catch him in
the upcoming flick, “Sperms of Endearment.”
Kerrie “Goldigga” McDermott
This up and cumming porn star is one of the
classiest girls I’ve ever met. She only wears the
nicest clothes, and only talks to the richest boys.
This bilingual honey spent her years before UO
in Catholic school, so she’s used to a good spanking,
and still wears her rosary as a reminder.
Post-catholic school, she’s really trying to
make up for lost time. Kerrie is definitely one
of the sassiest porn stars I’ve ever seen, and
definitely the sassiest one I’ve ever met in person.
In real life, and in her movies, Kerrie is
very independent and dominant. Her movies
often have a heavy S&M theme, and she frequently
plays a dominatrix. I even saw a movie
she was in where she had a sex dungeon; it was
kind of like a weirdly sexy porn version of Saw.
Sam “Taylor Mesquite” Putney
Sam is definitely the most renowned of all
the porn stars on the list. Hailing from the
Golden State, he was a hit there, but didn’t
feel fulfilled making run-of-the-mill pornos.
He travelled abroad for a few years,
going to Amsterdam, Siena, and Frankfurt,
making movies everywhere he went.
He settled down in Britain for a few
months, becoming known as the most attractive
actor to ever star in British porn.
Eventually, he crossed the pond again and decided
to come to UO to focus on his education
while he takes a break from the porn industry.
Never fear though, ladies: Sam is in no way
retired, and definitely has plans to re-enter (see
what I did there?) the industry after he graduates.
In the future, he hopes to travel more,
and plans to star in a porno on every continent.
He has big plans for India which, he has
hinted, include sex while riding an elephant.
13

hurt locker
High School:
Basketball is my favorite sport-
-I love the way they dribble
up and down the court and finger
each other’s buttholes. Wait, what?
Portland newspapers and TV news
stations claim that gettin’ knuckle
deep is just another part of the game
for one high school. U. S. Grant High
School has been the subject of police
investigation after a student told staff
he was sexually assaulted. Apparently
it was hazing that got out of hand, and
that hand ended up in some kid’s butt.
The student was attacked in
the locker room after a basketball
game on January 12 th . Everyone
involved, including the victim,
played basketball for Grant.
Team Captain Four Years in a Row
After the incident all perpetrators
were removed from the team. One
student was expelled and three others
were suspended. But this wasn’t
the only time extreme hazing, to put
it lightly, happened at the school.
I went to high school at Grant and
during my four years there I can safely
say taht nothing went up my pooper
(not even once). It’s concerning to
see local news portray my school
as some sort of haven for unwanted
butthole fingering, which is just not
the case. However, it’s hard to sound
innocent when reports indicate that
some of the sexual assault happened
during school hours, and in class.
According to the Oregonian,
“The student who told investigators
about the attack during his gym class
said other students had pinned him
down, sat on top of him and tried
to penetrate his anus with a finger
through his clothes.” This apparently
happened more than once, to varying
degrees and to multiple individuals,
along with incidents of older athletes
squeezing younger athletes’ junk.
Dude, what’s wrong with these kids!?
When students are victimized at
school, people start pointing fingers.
The community points fingers at the
parents, parents point fingers at the
school, and the school points fingers
at the district. But they should all
collectively point their fingers up the
butt of who’s really responsible: the
perpetrators. It’s natural to want to
place blame on the highest authority,
but there’s not much the staff could
have done differently. Many argue
that the locker room needed more
supervision, which sounds like a good
idea now, but would have seemed
ridiculous before the incident. Can you
imagine a parent standing up during a
PTA meeting to say, “I’m concerned
about sexual misconduct, so let’s have
an adult stay in the locker room to keep
an eye on the teens while they undress.”
Grant’s own principal, Vivian
Orlen, told news that there’s a “culture
of hazing and bullying at the school.”
This came as a surprise to me,
because I never once felt that I was
bullied as a student there. Principal
Orlen has only been at Grant for two
years. With her reaction she tried
A Real Pain in
the Ass!
to establish that cruelty and hazing
is a pre-existing problem; perhaps
she didn’t want people to ass-ociate
(badum tish!) this incident with her
taking charge of the school. I’m not
accusing Orlen of bringing in this
reign of rump rummaging, but I am
accusing her of misrepresenting the
school to make it seem as though
we’ve always had this problem.
I talked about the incident with
a student athlete currently going to
Grant. He said, “Prior to this event I
had never even heard about ‘hazing’
[at Grant].” Most students believe
everything has been blown way out
of proportion and that the media (like
this article!) is just making it worse.
The claim that sexual assault is
some sort of ritual or rite of passage for
the school is ludicrous. Some kids just
do weird shit. Given the information
that has been released, it’s safe to say
that the students involved aren’t sexual
predators. They’re just really, really
dumb. The perpetrators deserve severe
disciplinary action and the victim
deserves to have all of this blow over.
Severe disciplinary action
Hugh Schlongg is a contributor to the
Oregon Commentator, and is coining
the term “rump rummaging” right here
and now.
14

shame
How to Distract Your Lovers
From Your Hideous Genitals
We all have disgusting,
smelly, unsanitary netherregions.
There are no exceptions.
Some, however, are particularly gruesome.
Trust me, I was one of them.
But knowing I couldn’t forever hide
my horrible penis from all the women
unknowingly rushing toward
certain doom, I developed a
few ingenious methods to direct
attention away from the
disfigured, revolting truth. If
you’re tired of the looks of
terror and string of mysterious
suicides that seem to follow
you and the Lost Ark full
of flying murderous demons
that is your genitals, please,
in the name of God, read on.
Speaking of the Ark, it’s
common knowledge that nothing
screams “boner” more than
the Old Testament. The wrath
of an angry, jealous God is
sexier than a BJ from Mary
Magdalene. So before your
man uncovers the unholy truth
residing under your skirt, stage
a classic scene from the Torah
right on top of your vag: the Exodus.
The heartwarming story of Moses
leading the Jewish people out of slavery
and the visual your man gets when
he “parts the Red Sea” with his “staff”
are a power combo of unrestrained lust.
It’s a well-known fact that if you
surround yourself with attractive people,
you yourself will be judged as relatively
more attractive. Following this
idea to its logical conclusion, fellas,
draw some glorious, glistening cocks
on your upper thighs. Surrounded by
such splendor, she’ll realize she was
wrong to tell her friends that you had the
Centipedes? In my vagina?!
penis of a diseased goat and fall in love
with your foul member all over again.
Is the season of giving approaching?
Turn that haggard old puss into
a Winter Wonderland of snow! Shape
your untamed bush into a frocked
Christmas tree, staging your nauseating
snatch as a present that he can’t
wait to open. For more festive delight,
try hiding a candy cane or two up there.
Men, tattoos are sex magnets.
So why not double your potential
manly appeal with a classy cock tattoo?
Try getting a tattoo of a less horrifying
penis on top of yours, using
the power of optical illusion to convince
your gal that your wang is less
sickening than previously assumed.
Let’s be honest, the meat curtains
probably aren’t the prime cuts they
By Mitch Small
used to be. College will do that to a gal.
Remind your man of the “bacon sandwich”
he fell in love with by slathering
your vag with BBQ sauce, the manliest
of all condiments. For good measure,
stock up down there with a few brewskis
and a DVD of the best of WWE.
Fear. Nothing earns respect
and admiration like fear. What’s
something everyone is afraid
of? Goddamn bears. Yeah, hide
a few of those fuckers down
there. That’ll do the trick.
Here’s a hint just for the ladies:
Have a penis. When your
man goes downtown, he’ll be
too shocked when he is confronted
with a raging hard-on
to notice that stanky old puss
next door. You’re welcome.
If you’ve tried everything
and your lovers continue to
vomit upon seeing your revolting
junk, you might have to cut
your losses and rely on your
personality. But don’t fret! As I
always say, for each insecurity
you have about your atrocious
crotch, there exists porn devoted
solely to that feature, and thousands
of people pay good money to see it.
Ben Dover is the publisher of the Oregon
Commentator, and named his
member “The Grizzler.”
15

SHow me yours
Anonymous Sex Stories
It was the fourth of July, so you know what that means: full of Tequila and sunburnt
from falling asleep on a tiny innertube on the river, I was DTF. I had just consumed
about ten drumsticks in my ex-lover’s backyard during a screening of Independence Day.
Will Smith was killing aliens, and boy, was I WET. I excused myself to “freshen up in the
ladies’ room” and nudged the dude I used to fuck oh-so-subtlety as I walked back to
the house. After helping myself to a few more drumsticks in the kitchen, my ex-flame
and I proceeded to fuck--bareback--in his bathroom, the sounds of Independence Day
blasting at us through the open window. No doubt everyone watching the film could see
us. If memory serves me right, I may have been holding a drumstick during the entire
act of love. I ate a couple more drumsticks in the kitchen, then casually went back
outside on the lawn just in time to hear Bill Pullman’s famous speech about aliens and
whatnot. God Bless America.
-Katherine Chalmers III
1. Once I had sex with a guy while he was wearing a Billy Madison Outfit. We got walked
in on while he was fucking me against the wall, and instead of screaming, I barrellrolled
onto the ground, fully naked, thinking that if i was on the ground nobody would
notice that I was butt-ass naked living out a billy madison fantasy. That’s normal,
right?
2. I used to masturbate to this guy in high school who was really mean to me once. I
don’t know what that means, but don’t worry about it.
3. I had sex with a guy whose name i don’t know. I called him lavender.
-Anya Neeze
One time after drunk sex I passed out like any respectable
lady would, and my boyfriend tried to wake me up by touching my
crotch. Relying solely on my reflexes, I karate-chopped him away.
When I woke up and realized what was happening, I got mad and
made him go buy me diet coke and cigarettes. He got a flat tire on
the way home and had to walk all the way back. Sucka.
-Trish McNipz
My boyfriend and I were in a long-distance relationship after high school, so obviously
when I saw him over thanksgiving weekend, I was desperate for some nookie. We ended up
at a hotel, in what we fondly dubbed the “Bruce Wayne room”, as it was decorated with
multiple pictures of the caped crusader. Now, apparently some crazy bullshit happened
with my vagina over the fall because, for lack of a nicer way to put it, sex hurt like
hell at first. Turns out some malevolent trickster god regrew my cherry, because
the next morning my boyfriend and i awoke to what looked like a murder scene in our
bed. (for which i caught my boyfriend red-handed in the worst possible way.)
Long story short, we made a mad dash out of the place before housekeeping could
catch Us, and Batman may or may not be on the case.
- Horrified in Wy”ho”ming
16

ill show you mine
1.I had sex with a guy once who literally, not metaphorically, came in ten
seconds. within moments of entering me, he yelled, “I came!”. I never saw
him again, except for one time in rennie’s when he told me I didn’t know
what I was missing. Also he stole my earrings. Fuck that guy.
2. One time while drunk, my boyfriend and I drove his car one block away
from his house, where a party was happening, and then had sex in his car.
After that was over, he ran into a 7/11 to grab a beer, and I finished myself
off in the car. Match made in heaven.
-Kimmy hed
I fucked a dude named Randy next to the railroad
tracks. A train went by at one point and I saw my
life flash before my eyes. I also found a squished
penny.
-Trish McNipz
This occurred at one of those random high school parties, where there were cool
upperclassmen and I was still young and stupid enough to want to be cool. One of
the man-gorgeous water polo players, Nick, was eyeing me and before I knew it, we
were in his mom’s bedroom with the door locked and my shirt off. Things were looking
up for my self-esteem, as well as the party in his pants, except for one minor
detail: he had a MAJOR lisp. Every time he tried to say my name (or anything, really)
he sounded like an impaired eight-year-old. And in my drunken stupor, his speech impediment
was more than just that; it seemed like an actual handicap. To the extent
that, fifteen minutes later, I stumbled down the hall and started sobbing uncontrollably
to my friend.
“What happened?! Dude--”
“N-no, I….I think I just hooked up with someone handicapped. Kat, I hooked up with
someone who is ACTUALLY retarded. And it wasn’t out of charity, I just d-didn’t
know. I FEEL LIKE A TERRIBLE PERSON.”
I spent the rest of the night re-assessing my morals, my life, and wondering how I
had gone from Point A to Retard Rapist in a matter of minutes. At school on Monday,
I confirmed the fact that he did in fact have a lisp…but it still couldn’t undo the
shame I had already experienced.
-LE Shiznit
When I turned 15 I gave my first blowjob. I decided that bjs weren’t for me because: 1)
I’m lazy, 2) for those of you who don’t already know, giving head is a tedious and grueling
process, and in order to finish the job one has to put forth extensive amounts of
energy, 3) I wasn’t very good at it, and if I fail at anything the first time, I give up. I’m
an Aries, I can’t help it. After hours of contemplation, I had an epiphany: Fuck sucking
dick! Why give dome when you can just have sex and make the boyz do all the work? Since
then I have maintained my conviction to only perform fellatio in dire situations. Sorry
fellas.
-Trish McNipz
Can I just say that halting mid-coitus to have an inadvertant staring
contest with your roommate’s cat, who has been watching your “activities”
for god knows how long, is kind of a turn off?
- Kat O. nein
17

First Timer
A STRIPCLUB
NOVICE
TELLS
ALL
“At least I could smell her lipgloss...”
So I suppose my night started
with me arguing with my
roommate. Californians, as you know,
have this preconceived belief that, if
it’s not legal in California, it certainly
isn’t legal in Oregon. I was looking
at strip clubs and I came across an
establishment called the Silver Dollar
which served both liquor and full
nudity. Upon sharing this news I was
met with skepticism and disbelief. The
Californians were full of comments
like, “That’s fucking bullshit-- strip
clubs in California can’t have full
nudity and serve liquor!” and “There is
no way the girls are going to be hot.”
Well I politely reminded my roommate
that this wasn’t California (he ignored
me) and that we should check it out.
To start off, we knew that we
were going to drink too much so we
took the bus to West 11th. Stepping
inside, I was full of great expectations,
but I could never have anticipated the
smoking-hot reality. The servers and
dancers alike were fucking bangin’.
Everyone was telling me how ugly
these girls were going to be but I
couldn’t believe how wrong they were.
We were greeted by a stunning blonde
on stage that couldn’t have been older
then 18. She was not dancing at the
moment, but giggling and talking to
the various men sitting adjacent to her
with their mouths hanging open. It was
obvious she was highly acclaimed in the
stripping community because she was
just sitting there looking cute, giggling
and throwing money into the air.
The Silver Dollar has three stages.
One stage is close to the door, another
at the far corner and the main stage as
the centerpiece to hold it all together.
The room was dark and cheap and
the music was corny. We made our
way to the main stage, sat down, and
I stared at disbelief at the circus that
was a strip club. Now, this being my
first time, I can not convey how I felt-
-let’s just put it as somewhere between
mixed emotions and the beginnings of
a raging boner. The venue didn’t smell
remotely like any sort of body fluid
and there were a number of women
looking me in the eye, waving their
vaginas around and smiling. I’m not
saying I don’t have a lot of sex, but
the sexualized energy was making
the hairs on my neck and scrotum
stand on end. Being an experienced
people-watcher, I found where I
wanted to be for the next three hours,
bought a beer, and did what I do best.
Unfortunately, the rose tint of
the place quickly started to wear off.
The floor so discolored with shit,
spit, and dirt that I couldn’t guess
its original color. The servers (all
probably ex-strippers) were surly and
obviously pissed off that they were
there. Imagine chopping onions or
lettuce in the kitchen of a strip club...
I learned a couple of things that
night. The first was that plastic high
heels must be the single most ugly thing
a woman can wear. Second, the best
dancers are not always the best looking.
All of the dancers were entertaining,
but there were three that stood out. The
first was a girl that was a little chunky
(although there are many that would
describe her physique as curvy). The
second was on the older side; she
was still beautiful but a little wrinkly.
The reason I remember these two was
because I had never seen someone enjoy
anything as much as these two girls.
Miss Chunky was laying on the stage,
waving her legs with her eyes closed
18

Nose Candy
and a secretive pleasure plastered all
over her face. The wrinkly lady had
her butt against the pole and her chest
thrust out towards the audience (not
fully nude). The way she swayed
with her closed eyes to the music was
mesmerizing. I wish I had half as much
passion towards anything as these
ladies showed toward their audience.
However, my favorite dancer was
the third, this emo sort of girl that wore
a very short, skin tight dress with no
panties. She had a very dark personality
(I could tell--people watcher) and I had
a strong sense that she was only in this
for the money and in a hurry to leave.
One of my salivating roommates was
also flagrantly gob-smacked by this
woman and I was pissed that he got
more attention from her then me. She
did this thing where she put a dollar bill
on my roommates face and made him
turn around and bend over backwards.
With my friend almost laying on the
stage, she twisted around on all fours,
holding her vagina over his face, and
banged her puss against his forehead,
removing the dollar. For me, she did
something where she folded a bill into a
really small rectangle, commanded me
to bite down on it and sort of grabbed the
money from my mouth with hers. Her
dirty money mouth-grab was probably
more sanitary then a pussy-slap to the
forehead, but not as impressive. At
least I could smell her lip gloss on me.
The best part of the night though
was definitely stumbling out of the
strip club and calling DDS to pick us
up. Because if there’s anything better
than watching naked girls prance
around on stage, it’s having a prepaid
taxi come pick you up afterwards.
Jack Mehoffe is a contributor to the
Oregon Commentator and likes chopping
onions in most places.
True Life: I Was a
Coke Princess
The title really says it all, doesn’t it? You
may be disappointed to find out, then,
that I wasn’t technically a coke princess,
but…hey—don’t—where you goin’? This
article will still be full of thrills, chills, and
nip slips, don’t you worry! And coke. If
you read this article I will give you coke.
My adventure began in the
glorious time known as Eugene Summer.
No one is around, you’re working some shit
job in town, and NO ONE IS AROUND.
It’s a blessing and a curse. On the one
hand, you don’t have to hear drunk people
screaming, “S’COOOO DUCKS” at 3am
on a Tuesday night. On the other hand, all
of your friends are gone and all you can
do is drink. I mean, you do that normally
anyway, but c’mon. It’s, like, summer
drinking. It doesn’t count as alcoholism.
Where were we? Ah, Eugene
Summer. Yes. With a smaller social circle
at my disposal, I started hanging out with
awesome people I usually wouldn’t have
spent so much time with. Except I was
drunk most of the time so maybe they
weren’t awesome, I’m not quite sure. The
point is, I was hanging out with an older,
more sophisticated, and certainly drunker
crowd than I was used to. One of these
friends knew a man—let’s call him Big
Poppa, because let’s face it, I’m not very
imaginative—who was a well-known coke
dealer. If that just isn’t Eugene in a fucking
nutshell, I don’t know what is. Unless
you saw, like, a homeless person riding a
tandem bike by himself while stirring a jar
of organic peanut butter. He was a wellknown
coke dealer. Do the cops know
about him? Are they all fwiends? Or is
it like some kind of corrupt cop situation
where everyone is just doing blow in
exchange for—
Sorry. Back to the story. My
friend introduced Big Poppa and I, and he
was pleasant enough—pretty nice, even.
It just goes to show that sometimes you
shouldn’t prematurely judge narcotics
dealers. Well, the next evening at the
bars—because let’s face it, during Eugene
Summer you’re never not at the bars—my
friend had an interesting tidbit of info for me.
“Big Poppa thinks you’re pretty
attractive,” he dished.
I was hardly surprised, seeing as
Rolling Stone was ranked me #2 on their
List of Hottest Coeds But I Thought We
Were a Music Publication?!, right after
The Girl Who Wears Bright Red Lipstick
to Parties and Also You Can Totally
See Her Bra Through Her Shirt in Class
Sometimes. But I was gonna play it cool
on this one. After all, there could be free
coke involved! And sex, too. That’s what I
was DEFINITELY more interested in. Yes.
“Sex.”
“What does that even mean?” I
scoffed, with the prowess of a super-hotyet-super-bitchy
chick. “He wants to fuck
me or something?”
But my friend didn’t need to
explain. What happened over the next couple
weeks answered all the questions I had. Big
Poppa would make loving comments about
my “fine ass” or my “sexy brain,” (maybe
I made that last part up) while keeping me
supplied with drinks. While tipsy—okay,
blackout drunk—I would fantasize about
being chained to his bedside in a gold
bikini, a sort of Jabba the Hut/Princess Leia
sex thing if you will, but instead of a rancor
pit there’d be a pit full of sweet, sweet
nose candy. And damn it if that doesn’t
get me hard. Get my vagina hard, that is.
And then, just like that, the
summer ended. I still went downtown,
because yeah, so what, I have a drinking
problem (oh god, please help me, I really,
REALLY have a drinking problem), yet
I didn’t see Big Poppa anywhere. It was
as though he vanished with the summer
wind, as someone might say if they were
writing a shitty pop song. My dreams of
being a coke princess dissipated, the way
a line of coke might transport itself into
your nose with one long, sensual sniff. But
don’t worry, friends. There’s
always next summer.
Katherine Chalmers III is a contributor
to the Oregon Commentator and does
have one sexy noggin.
19

Barriers
Te Gusta...
uh, Sexo?
Have you ever tried to explain to
someone that they couldn’t finger
you on a couch at the Campbell Club
because you were on your period when
that person didn’t speak the same
language as you? And also you were
drunk?
But I’m getting ahead of
myself. As many know, I, Katherine
Chalmers the Third, am a sexual
fiend. I like to get down in Sex Town,
population: My Vagina, although
my flirtation with the man I’ll call
the “Amante” started out innocently
enough. I frequented the café he
worked at, often “accidentally”
dropping my books in front of him
with a shy smile, or letting my bra “fall
off” at my table while I watched him
work.
One sultry evening, my
dreams of finally getting to yell
Spanish obscenities in bed came to
fruition. Er, almost. I was on my
Adventures in Amor With A Dude Who
Really, Really Didn’t Speak English So Well
period (which is definitely a precursor
to having stories end well) and in the
mood to dance. What better place
to dance than the Campbell Club? I
thought to myself, putting down my
second bottle of wine for the evening
and slipping into whatever it is that
girls wear to parties. Arriving at the
‘Club, my wino’s breath filling the
air with an anticipatory scent, I could
tell the Amante was near. My coochie
hummed with anticipation.
As soon as I hit the dance floor,
I felt the presence of arms around my
waist. A normal occurrence, as I’m
pretty much hot as shit, but oh did my
vag give a lil’ clench when I turned
‘round and saw that the mysterious
man dancing with me was none other
than the Amante. He smiled at me in
that smoldering way of his, I think, and
we talked a bit, maybe. Anyway, it was
magical. The natural temperature of
the Campbell Club being 97 degrees,
and the heat aggravated by the
hundred or so sweating bodies tripping
on MDMA (guilty as charged!), we
headed outside to cool down.
I knew the Amante was not
American, and was delighted at the
opportunity to use my Spanish skills on
someone I actually had the possibility
of banging—unlike speaking with my
Spanish professors/classmates, who I
also very much wanted to bang. (All
of them, I mean. The professors and
all my classmates. I told you I was
a whore earlier, remember?) Anyway,
we talked as deeply as two people
could when they don’t have a real
understanding of each other’s first
language. I asked him enlightening
questions such as, how old are you?
and how long have you been in the
United States? It was like something
out of a movie. A romantic, sexy
movie where people put their mouths
on other people’s mouths.
20

TMI
“Based on a True Story” By Mary Magdalene
After our deep discussion,
we went back inside. And when I
say “inside” I really mean “upstairs
to that part of the house where there
are couches you can get fingered on.”
We kissed passionately, as lovers
do. He whispered things in my ear
and I caught one or two words of
the phrases, sometimes, so I kind of
understood that he wanted to have sex
with me. The fact that he was trying
to pull my tights down was also a
good clue.
And I was game to tener
sexo. Oh, was I game. There’s
nothing I love more than a bit of
public sex, believe you me. Yet as
he rolled down my tights, I felt the
need to say something. After all, it’s
a bit surprising when you go upstairs
to finger a girl and it turns out she’s
on her period, amirite?! So I started
to explain, in my best Spanish, the
Situation.
“Yo soy…” Oh, shit. What’s
the word for gushing-blood-out-ofmy-lady-hole?
“Uh…” I tried again.
Amante looked confused, and pulled
his hand away.
“Yo soy…es el tiempo. El
tiempo? Sabes?” His eyes grew
wide. I had tried to say, “It’s my time.
You know?” It’s a slightly unclear
euphemism even in English, but
judging by the fear I saw in his eyes it
seemed he knew exactly what I meant.
“Ohhhh!” he cried, backing
away from me.
“Si,” I responded sadly. It
was comforting, in a way, to know that
men of all backgrounds and ethnicities
would never be cool with gettin’ inside
a vagina that makes the scene in The
Shining where all the blood is coming
out of the elevators look like kid stuff.
He paused for a moment,
then moved his hand back toward my
vagina much like a goldfish that has
forgotten it has been fed, but instead of
those gross little dry flakes of fish food
it had been fed a vagina or something.
“Sangre!” I reminded him,
and once again his eyes grew wide.
“Si, si,” he said, sadder this
time, as though he hoped my period
had disappeared momentarily, and was
dismayed it had not. We returned to
the dance floor, disheartened at my
lady situation and the lack of gettingfingered-on-couches.
The night ended
soon after, Amante and I parting ways,
never to see each other again.
Just kidding. The next
weekend we met up and fucked, and
it was okay. Look, I’m not good at
conclusions. …The End.
Katherine Chalmers III is a contributor
to the Oregon Commentator and
hasn’t missed a Spanish class since.
21

COsFaux
30 Things to Do with a
Naked Man!
By Tony Darsy
In the spirit of all things sexually explicit-
-this is, after all, college and thus the
time to fuck off on class work and really
give the big middle finger to what your
parents and sex-ed teachers always said
about sex--we here at The Commentator
present to you the following Thirty
Tips for making the most out of your
impending Craigslist and/or Taylor’s
Blind Date. It’s cool, we’ve all been
there and know the perils of these
waters. Trust us, these tips are tried
and true by us here at The Commentator.
We wouldn’t lead you astray, would we?
1. Sneak up behind him
Ask if the rag smells like
chloroform.
2. Get naked too
Lord knows the men you’re finding
at the bars around here have never
seen tits before.
3. Let him be an animal
Get some cat ears and a tail
and have him prance around
your bedroom. Take pictures for
posterity’s sake.
4. Break out the blindfold
Take him to the woods. Release.
5. Climb on top
Do so while speaking Latin in the
deepest voice you can manage. If
he’s not terrified by the time you’ve
reached the second verse, you’re
doing it wrong.
6. Take a sensual shower
Golden is preferred.
7. Find his g-spot
Stick a finger up his butt.
8. Give his dick an Indian Rugburn
It’s the closest he’ll get to a real
handjob.
9. Give him a new number
All those guys off
Craigslist have to be good
for something.
10. Find a new favorite spot
Like on top of a running car in a
garage. The carbon monoxide is a
huge turn on.
11. Massage his backside
See #7
12. Turn him into a buffet
Share him with your roommates.
Don’t tell them what’s in the
buffet.
13. Boss him around
It’s so much different from the rest
of the time!
14. Give him a peep show
He doesn’t get enough of that on
the internet during class.
15. Make him beg
Put on some high heels and dig
into his scrotum until he passes
out.
16. When you’re finished blowing him,
whisper in his ear “Well done,
Draco”
Trust us, it works.
17. Make him long for your lips
The ducky-er, the better. Also,
remember to shave.
18. Play no-hands nookie
If he touches you, threaten to cut
his hands off. If he touches you
again, do it.
19. Taunt him
Remind him what it was like
to be a fat ten-year-old on the
playground. Call him a ginger.
Kick him while he’s down.
20. Turn into a snake and fondle his
eardrum
Men love long tongues. Why do
you think they listen to KISS?
21. Get dirty with him in the tub
After sex, steal his kidney and
leave him in an ice bath.
22. Tie him up
Put him in your trunk. Dispose of
the body.
23. Imply that he’s a stud
We all know he isn’t.
24. Cockblock like no tomorrow
Nobody gets in these panties
without a wedding ring or three
shots of tequila!
25. Seduce him
Get drunk and make out with your
best friend at a frat party.
26. Toy with him
Whip out a vibrator and use it on
yourself. Lord knows men don’t
know what to do with vaginas and
shouldn’t be allowed anywhere
near them.
27. Rev him up for round two
It won’t work, but you can try.
28. Let him climb on top
If he can scale your Himalayas, he
can stick it in you.
29. Play rough
Slap him around and make him
your bitch. Make him call you
Daddy Knight.
30. Make it a quickie
After all, he should be gay after all
these tips!
22

dress up
Tell me, what’s your
Fantasy?
By Anita P. Nisse
We’re all in college, and while we all might dabble in light
S&M or edible underwear (right?) most of us don’t have
the need to spice up our sex lives, yet. Someday we’re going to
look over at our partner, then down at our beer belly, and feel a
wave of depression and lack of arousal. When that day comes,
I want every one of you special readers to have a repertoire of
role-playing fantasies in your back pocket.
“But Anita,” you might say, “How will I know which ones
are the sexiest?” Well, dear reader, that is why I’m here: to take
all the different fantasies for a spin and tell you which ones are
sexy spicy and which ones are hot-sauce-in-your-vag spicy.
Doctor/Nurse-Patient
This fantasy has been exploited by slutty college girls for
what I can only assume to be centuries. Look around any
Halloween, and you’ll see dozens of sexy nurses (last year
I saw a medical marijuana nurse) all waiting for some frat
guy to jizz on their boobs. Since this fantasy is so popular,
it was obviously the first one I wanted to try.
Unfortunately, since I am not a doctor, nor very good at
being sexy, it went something like this:
Boyfriend: Nurse, there’s something wrong with my leg…
could you look at it?
Me: Oh…it looks infected…
Boyfriend: Really? Well maybe a massage would help…?
Me: I don’t know…it looks like gangrene. We should
probably amputate it.
BAM! Mood killed. Note to all you readers: when
exploring the Nurse/Patient fantasy, stay away from sexy
amputation talk, because it turns out that it’s actually not all
that sexy.
Verdict: Lots of potential, just make sure your sexy-lingo
is primed and ready to go.
23

Teacher/Librarian-Student
This one is another classic, often featured in
magazines such as Playboy or Hustler, and
frequently showing up on my StumbleUpon. Things
were going pretty smooth when I tried it; I busted
out my glasses and ruler (for a good sexy whipping)
and the sexy talk was going well…
Me: Boyfriend, could you stay after class?
We need to discuss something.
Boyfriend: Sure Miss Anita.
Me: You’ve been very naughty, you haven’t finished
your homework assignment from last week, and
you’re going to have to stay after for some one-onone
tutoring…
Boyfriend: Shit, you just reminded me, I need to
finish my homework for Grammar!
Can we do this later?
Verdict: I’d be wary of doing this scenario in
college, as it might hit a little too close to home, but
I imagine it’d be much sexier when neither party
actually has homework or classes.
Barista-Customer
I was really looking forward to trying this one. Who
hasn’t had a crush on some mysterious barista at one
point or another (or been to Roma for that matter)? I
even thought it would be appropriate to break out the
chocolate syrup, considering my drink of choice is a
soy mocha.
Boyfriend: Hello, pretty customer, shall I make the
usual?
Me: Boyfriend, they never say “Hello.” They only say
“Hola!” Christ.
Boyfriend: Oh, sorry. Hola, the usual?
Me: Can you speak with a Spanish accent?
Verdict: This fantasy might be a little too specific to
be really effective. It had a lot of potential, but I was
the one who ended up dissatisfied when my boyfriend
couldn’t quite affect the dialect of a person who
pretends to only speak Spanish (I’m talking to you,
Miguel. I know you know English much better than
you let on).
24

Stranger-Stranger
I did my research for this article in the
Buzz, so I was a little embarrassed but
also intrigued by the things I discovered.
According to AskMen.com, this is the #7
most popular fantasy women have, so I
decided to give it a whirl. I thought my
bedroom might be a dumb setting for
stranger-stranger sex, so we decided to
fake-meet at the library. Bad call number
one.
Boyfriend: Hi, is anyone sitting here?
Me: No, be my guest. (sexy wink here)
Boyfriend: What’s your name?
Me: Princess Laticia. (Dirty looks from
everyone around us here) What’s yours?
Boyfriend: Ernest Barnaby Smith III. (Stifled laughter
here)
Me: Oh, what a great name…(more dirty looks)
Boyfriend: Yeah, Anita, can we leave? I think we’re being
too loud . . .
Verdict: If you’re going to play this one out, make sure you
do it somewhere you’re allowed to talk.
Forced Sex
Around this point was when I started to
doubt the AskMen survey, because it said that
this was #3 on a list among two other kinds
of domination. They did explain, however,
that this fantasy is popular because it allows
women to be raunchier without facing guilt.
So, I guess that’s a plus? If you feel guilt for
having sex, maybe you should reconsider
the whole situation in general. Either way, I
decided to try it.
Unfortunately, my boyfriend is slightly
more submissive. Every time he got
into it, he just apologized or said, “am I
hurting you?” To say it detracted from the
experience would be an understatement,
and I don’t feel fully qualified to comment
on it, because it didn’t really happen.
Verdict: Make sure you and your partner
both know what you’re getting into, and
have a safe word or something?
Anita P. Nisse is a contributor to the
Oregon Commentator and likes the
strawberry-flavored ones.
25

LEts get it on
B J
CHIMEONNAISE’S
ONER
AMZ
James Brown
If you’ve got the confidence, start off
your session with some Soul Brother
Number One! Play some “Sex Machine”
and then proceed to shake your
moneymaker.
A good playlist can transform an awkward make-out session into a steamy
Hollywood sex scene. Play this list from beginning to end. You can thank
me later.
circumstances. You must play it all
the way through, uninterrupted; you
must have black lights; you must
climax right at the last second of
“Eclipse”; and you must be very, very,
very, very high! Obviously.
Amy Winehouse
“Valerie,” “Me & Mr Jones,” “Back
to Black.” (If you can find the nonlive
version. Hearing the live audience
while doing the deed kind of
creeps me out.)
Tribe Called Quest
Specifically Low End Theory. Really,
this whole album is good to bone to.
It has the perfect blend of slow R&B
bass lines and faster hip-hop beats,
making for a thoroughly enjoyable
sex session.
D’Angelo
I asked my girlfriend which
D’Angelo song was the sexiest and
she said, “‘Untitled (How Does It
Feel)’ is basically sex in a song.” The
album cover (his rippling abs) is pretty
sexy too, so might as well have it
displayed on your laptop during your
lovemaking. Personally, it helps my
lady forget about the sweaty, clumsy
oaf on top of her.
Black Keys
Don’t play that garbage album they
just released. Either go Brothers or
Blakroc. “On The Vista” is a pretty
badass song.
Pink Floyd
Dark Side of the Moon. This takes a
very special partner and very precise
Lupe Fiasco
“Kick Push” + “Sunshine” = Grade A
Bone-Tracks
The Roots
Try banging to “Star on The Tipping
Point.” ?uestlove will help you
out with the rhythm of your pelvic
thrusts.
Warning: Avoid Seed 2.0! Sounds
good, but nothing kills the mood
faster than thinking about pregnancy.
The Ramones
I’ll be honest, this may just be a
pipe dream of mine, but I think the
repetitive, droning power chords of
the Ramones would be perfect for the
less graceful stages of sex (…if you
know what I mean). Choose any song
because it’s all the same shit. Besides,
what else are you going to play for
the ball slapping positions? Nine Inch
Nails? What are you? Some kind of
serial killer?
Queens of the Stone Age
“Make It Wit Chu.” Enough Said.
Curtis Mayfield
Great voice, great 70’s porn
soundtrack feel. Check out “Give Me
Your Love,” or Kanye’s “Touch The
Sky,” which uses a Mayfield track.
It’s a pretty good song! That being
said, Kanye is a douche.
Janelle Monáe
I have a humungous little boy crush
on Janelle. She is the female James
Brown. Do yourself a favor and enter
the bone-zone with “Faster,” or her hit
“Tightrope.” “Oh Maker” is the best
sex-track on this whole damn list!
It’s like Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It
On” without the overt sexual implications.
(I love the song, but nowadays
it should switch its title to something
even less subtle, like “We’s Gonna
Fuck.”)
Queen
If all things went according to plan,
you just gave your partner a glorious
orgasm! Finish it off with “We Are
the Champions.” You deserve it!
26

swordfIghting
Ahh, True Bromance. It’s a
beautiful thing. Right now,
somewhere in America two men are
hugging, loudly proclaiming their love
for one another with that special enthusiasm
only mass consumption of cheap
beer can engender. The mutual appreciation
carries on too long and reaches
a crescendo when someone gets mistyeyed
and says something grand, something
like, “You are seriously so money,
I’ve never met someone as money as
you – I just want to be in your life right
now bro, no homo.”
Now that sounds like a great bromance.
Of course, Newton’s third law of
physics dictates that for every epic authentic
bromance, there will be a false
bromance of equal and opposite magnitude.
The darkside of bromance can
be--and often is--forced and potentially
embarrassing for everyone involved,
and simply must be avoided.
A great bromance always comes
from the heart, anyone who’s experienced
one will testify. If I had a dime
for every time I’ve been locked in a
teary-eyed, beer-scented embrace, with
my face buried in the sweaty shoulder
or dripping wet beard of a man I loved,
I’d have enough in dimes to get you
and your two homies a round of Jager
bombs at Taylor’s.
But even the experienced falter,
and I confess, here, in this article, that
there have been times when I’ve used
my man-love out of selfishness rather
than compassion, for irony rather than
sincerity, for evil rather than good.
My most recent instance of misguided
bromance took place at a popular
bar in town. On this particular night
I’d started drinking quite early to quell
the sadness over a girl who’d only recently
broken things off with me. The
beer was working well, and there I was,
at the happy zenith of Drunk, when
the aforementioned ex-lady-friend appeared
through the front window in the
line outside. Our eyes locked. I felt the
thrill of nervousness rapidly give way
to a spirit of drunken recklessness, and
hastily began pushing my way through
the crowd.
Outside, standing before her, it became
apparent that this woman who
I was so excited to see did not share
my excitement, as she went shifty and
turned what was supposed to be a jubilant
conversation into a one-sided interrogation.
I was feeling hopeful, despite
whatever social challenges I faced. And
the challenges kept coming. Soon we
were joined by her new suitor, a smiley
guy with a soft, Mediterranean sexiness,
who evidently knew nothing of
the history between me and the ex.
She introduced us uncomfortably.
We shook hands.
“You are one fine looking dude,” I
said to him, without releasing his hand.
“You know that?”
Now this, my friends, is one of
the oldest technique in the book – the
Hail Mary of drunken hook-up culture.
You’ve seen it before, whether you
recognized it or not. The guy with the
desirable girl by his side shows up at
the bar, and suddenly he’s got bros he
never knew he had before. It’s a punk
move, and it stinks of desperation, and
as shitty as it is to admit, I was being
That F***ing Guy.
So the suitor shook off my compliment
with a simple thanks (classy jerk)
and glanced sideways at our mutual
friend. I continued on my mission with
no real flight plan, just a blind hope
that recklessness would bring me some
props from the universe. Though not
necessarily in this order, each of the following
statements was uttered at some
point during my brief conversation with
this guy:
“I like your style dude.”
“Man. Gay men must love you.”
“Anyone ever tell you you look
like Adrian Brody?”
“From one good looking guy to another,
you could be a model. No homo.”
“I feel like we should kiss.”
“You wanna kiss me right now?”
“You’ve got a super regal nose, for
real.”
“See I’m from Arizona. We got a
lot of hot dudes in Arizona, no homo.”
“C’mon man, give me a kiss.
Please. Right here. On the face.”
And so on.
If my intention was to play a game
of homoerotic chicken, it failed miserably.
The guy didn’t flinch. He was immune
to my games – floated above it
with graceful indifference. My former
lady was jonesing to get the hell out of
there, understandably. She left on the
fly with the suitor, and I was left to consider
how slutty I’d been, how debased
my loyalty to Man Code now appeared
to be. My God, I thought. What had I
done? Whored my affections out to a
guy who I not only did not love, but
didn’t even like! I laughed it off over
more drinks, until I was alone. Then
came the tears.
But don’t cry for me, men of Eugene.
Learn from my mistake. If you
know you’re not in love with that guy,
don’t fake it. You’ll only end up hurting
him or hurting yourself. I learned my
lesson the hard way.
Now. I’m saving all my love for the
men who are loving me, (insert modifier
disclaiming my gayness).
Haywood Jablowmie is a contributor
to Oregon Commentator and loves
horses!
27

i second
S.I.L.F.s:
Rand Paul (R) Kentucky
Turn Ons:
He is the spawn of Ron Paul. Is that not enough in
itself? Well if not, he’ll get you with his fervent, fiscal and
governmental conservatism like he does me, goddamn! Paul’s
first legislative proposal was to cut $500 billion from federal
spending in one year. He’s been unremittingly stiff—about
implementing a government spending ceiling, and he was
strongly opposed to the bank and auto industry bailouts. Paul’s
darkest, socioeconomic fantasy is the abolition of the Federal
Reserve. A little radical, yes, but he’s reasonable in real life. He
opposes inflation and supports his father’s bill that proposes to
mandate an audit of the Reserve, simply seeking transparency
and accountability. Here at The Oregon Commentator
we just love us some transparency and accountability. Let’s
not forget that he’s a doctor on top of all of this—a practicing
ophthalmologist who can tend to those bedroom eyes. Last
but not least, he’s a family man. Paul regularly volunteers to
coach teams for each of his three sons in Little League baseball,
soccer, and basketball. Swoon.
Minor Setbacks:
He’s a little shy. Earlier this year, Paul went through a
scanner and set off the alarm. He then refused the TSA of a fullbody
pat down. Just so they wouldn’t lay a hand on him, Paul
rebooked another flight and was rescreened without incident.
Olympia Snowe (R) Maine
Turn Ons:
She’s a winner, literally— never having lost an election
in 35 years as an elected official. She’s a fashion icon! Huffington
Post Style blogged about her dapper suits. She’s also Greek, and
if you’re into troubled childhoods, she’s got that Orphan Annie
resilience: both her parents died, then the uncle she was sent to
live with died too. But look at her now! She was the youngest
Republican woman ever elected to the United States House of
Representatives. Snowe was also the first woman to chair the
Senate’s Seapower Subcommittee, which oversees the Navy
and Marine Corps. Snowe is also the first Republican woman to
secure a full-term seat on the Senate Finance Committee. The
hottest thing about Snowe is that she’s a moderate Republican.
For example, she’s pro-choice! She was named one of Time
Magazine’s top 10 senators in 2006. Time praised Snowe for her
sensitivity to her constituents, also noting that: “Because of her
centrist views and eagerness to get beyond partisan point scoring,
Maine Republican Olympia Snowe is in the center of every policy
debate in Washington.” Last but not least, she loves and knows
her beer. Earlier this month, Snowe took the Senate floor and
displayed an impressive knowledge of beermaking while praising
Bull Jagger—a successful small business and microbrewery
in Maine— that apparently greatly improved the state’s brew
market. “While larger breweries all produce lagers, most microbreweries
shy away from lagers because of the increased length
of brewing time in comparison to ales,” she said. Damn, you tell
em’ Olympia.
Minor Setbacks:
Honestly, none in sight.
28

that motion
Senators I’d Like to Fuck
by Betty Nailder
Marco Rubio (R) Florida
Turn Ons:
Rubio is tolerable-looking… in this picture. He’s
often mentioned as a likely Vice President nominee but he says
he isn’t interested— so he likes to play hard to get. He’s exotic,
actually born to two Cuban immigrants. Another thing: he’s
my father’s favorite senator, because—and I quote— “He is
a young, rising, conservative minority. The right wing needs
more minorities.” I know, my dad is obviously a very insightful
man. Also, I like the way that Rubio is playin’ this GOP primary:
He has vowed to stay neutral and not endorse any candidate.
He hasn’t cut them any slack either. I’m going to quote a Fox
News Latino headline here. It reads, “Rubio calls for GOP to
Chill on Immigration rhetoric.” So he’s sensitive. Lastly, Rubio
maintains a relatively readable Twitter account (@marcorubio),
which let me assure you, is uncommon amongst politicians.
Minor Setbacks:
First of all, he ain’t rich. In fact, he’s deep in debt.
He’s among the poorest members the Senate — worth
between $75,987 and $834,998. If it’s $834,998 though, I can
probably work with that. And believe me when I say I don’t
keep up on any Tea Party politics, but apparently, Rubio’s
their “crown prince.” If this is true, that will be a dealbreaker
at the least. He’s also quite the social conservative. Rubio,
a Catholic, attacked President Obama’s recent ruling that
religiously-affiliated employers must cover the cost of their
employees’ birth control, calling it a violation of the First
Amendment. Oh and he has four children with a former
Miami Dolphins cheerleader. Yeah, he’s one of those.
Daniel Inouye (D) Hawaii
Turn Ons:
Revered as “one of the most respected men on Senate,”
and called the “Rock of Gibralter” to suggest his invincibility,
Inouye, at the ripe age of 87 years old, is alive and pimpin’.
(No, for real—his wife is 24 years younger than he is.) If he
serves until June 29, 2014, he will become the longest serving
Senator in history. He has already announced that he plans to run
for a record tenth term in 2016, when he will be 92. Inouye is
“President Pro Tempore” of the Senate, the senator who comes
second only to the Vice President himself— and people are
required to address him as “The Honorable.” Just imagine talking
dirty to him. He dons the highest military decoration achievable
and he’s got that decaying war veteran allure about him. Oh
yeah, and he’s a bull of a man, a real fucking patriot. A captain in
WWII, he led an assault on a heavily-defended ridge of German
fortifications known as the Gothic Line, which represented the
last and most dogged line of German defensive works in Italy.
After having being shot, Inouye raised himself up and cocked
his arm to throw his last grenade when a German fired a rifle
grenade that struck him on the right elbow, severing his arm
and leaving his own primed grenade reflexively “clenched in a
fist that suddenly didn’t belong to me anymore”. Inouye pried
the live grenade from his severed right hand, and then tossed
the grenade into the enemy bunker, destroying it. He stumbled
to his feet and continued forward, silencing the last German
resistance with a one-handed burst from his Thompson before
being wounded in the leg and tumbling unconscious to the bottom
of the ridge. If that doesn’t turn you on, I don’t know what does.
Minor Setbacks:
He has no right arm and he walks with a cane. But you could
work around that.
29

SPEW
Spew...
On Being A Fuckhead
“HATE ALL U WANT BECUZ I GOT A GRAMMY Now! That’s the
ultimate FUCK OFF!”
- Chris Brown on his Twitter account, in response to outcry about his
inclusion in the Grammys, the hate in question stemming from anger over
his assault on Rihanna. Mister Brown seems to think that beating people
up and being a general sadsack is fine as long you have a hunk of metal to
show for your lack of talent.
On the Right to Party
“I personally hardly ever drink and I never binge drink or drink to get drunk.
That doesn’t preclude me from being assaulted by any stretch of the imagination
but it does cut my risk...Why voluntarily put yourself in a potentially
dangerous situation?”
- Marissa from the ODE’s Opinion section (“What You’re Saying , On the
Web,” Feb. 20), who seems to fancy herself a model for the rest of us. To Miss
M, the ladies of The Commentator staff have this to say: you can take our
booze when you pry it from our cold, dead hands.
“Ben and Katie ran on a pro-OSPIRG platform, and that’s one of the reasons I voted
for them. Students also voted their support for funding OSPIRG. I already knew that
Taylor had worked with OSPIRG — as did anyone who pays attention on campus.
Rather than running trash pieces about people’s personal lives, I think that the ODE
should seek to inform and empower students — just as Katie Taylor does every day.”
-Diana Wildridge, “Coverage regarding Taylor misses bigger picture,” ODE, Jan
25, simultaneously penning a love-letter to KT and failing to understand the meaning
of “conflict of interest.”
On Crushes
30

SPEW
On Thinking before you speak
“It is not just corporations, but capitalism itself that needs to be confronted.
In other words: private ownership over the production and distribution of
wealth. Whether the institution is large, medium, or small in size is only
a matter of degree, but in principle they are all the same: they are private
tyrannies that are completely unaccountable to those who serve under them
and those outside the institution who are impacted by them.”
- Thaddeus Achilles Griffin of the Student Insurgent (“Private Property,
Government, and Anarchy,” Feb. 2012), in an article so inane and out of
touch with reality that we are all dumber for having read it. According to
Griffin, mom-and-pop corner stores are just a leech on society, and local
business should not be trusted (mere sentences before decrying the fate of
the working class). However, we’re happy to hear that the Insurgent doesn’t
care for private ownership; The Commentator will be coming to collect
their computers and office supplies in the coming days, since their personal
effects are clearly just ruining their anarchist cred.
Tyrants!
On Fatherhood
“I have a degree in a relevant field of journalism on the horizon and
I’ve been told that I am very nurturing-- for a dude. I cook, (know how
to) clean, and possess a near-infinite well of patience. I am the only
21-year-old male I know who still babysits. I would be the single dad of
the century.
I have romanticized my own version of single-fatherhood in which my
child and I live in a two-room studio above a small independent coffee
shop in the heart of one of America’s great cities. I work from home as
a video editor... I have an expansive network of colleagues, rappers, and
sound engineers who double as babysitters... my son/daughter is my
best friend, my roommate, my sous chef and my art project... Call me
egocentric and self-servicing, but I have always envisioned my children
as my creative masterpieces.”
-Noah Porter of the Oregon Voice (“Single Fatherhood: Entertaining
the Notion,” Jan. 2012) on why he should be sterilized immediately.
31

Deadline for submissions: March 9th.