It's the end of July and the world is on fire! Everything sucks and it doesn't look like shit's gonna be improving any time soon, if ever, and that's a real bummer, kiddies. Nobody's favorite podcast went on a little hiatus during the month of July, mostly because who even cares anymore, but we're back now with a brand-new episode for the apathetic denizens of this smoldering planet to ignore at their leisure. And at just the perfect time, too. Studies show that enthusiasm for Trappo's Chap House is at an all-time low, so we need to strike while the iron is ice-fucking-cold! That's why I'm here, at the very ass-end of this god forsaken month, to present the latest installment of fun and frivolity from two jerks who have no business in the podcast game, a little ditty I like to call Adult Situations! (The Podcast). And the name is fitting, since the episode is mostly about pornography. Not that fancy new digital crap, mind you, but the old school paper stuff. The primo shit. Old pappy's vintage tintype porno.
The kids these days get their sticky little paws on an old issue of Hustler and start swiping their fingers on the glossy pages trying to access the next not-so-tastefully-nude image of a nubile young woman with big knockers and a vacant expression on her smooth face because they're so broken by modern technology that they don't even understand what a real magazine is. Turning the pages with your fucking hands is a barbaric custom to these under-baked larvae, and they don't want to be bothered with that antiquated garbage. Nowadays, all you've got to do is Google "tits" and you're cruising down Easy St. like a straight fucking baller, no fuss, no muss. Shit, you can probably just ask Siri or Alexa or whomever else to simply show you some titties, and they probably will, no typing required. Open your lazy fuckin' mouth and ask your modern miracle of a smartphone to show you some hardcore pornography, and your wish is its command. We're too spoiled by modern technology. It all comes right to us, to our chubby, soft hands, and as such it doesn't even matter anymore.
Pornography used to matter. Back in the day when a teenaged boy had some porn, he held onto it with a white-knuckle death grip, jealously guarding it like a malnourished madman guards his meager, withered oasis from imaginary enemies in the deep desert. But nobody even cares about the stuff anymore. It's just there, another inexhaustible resource the beneficent internet has bestowed upon us, and it's lost all meaning. Maybe that's a good thing. I don't know. I'm just another old man yelling at the young 'uns, telling them all how much harder we had to work for our porn back in my day when the only way you were getting on the world-wide web was if you fired up the rusty old boiler modem and spent a sold hour shoveling coal into the greedy furnace in your basement before you could get online, and you had maybe just enough time to download half a blurry JPEG of what you believed to be Pamela Anderson giving her then-husband Tommy Lee a blowjob on their boat before you have to dash back downstairs to turn the valve and release the pressure on your modem, lest it explode and destroy half your neighborhood in an apocalyptic conflagration.
The point is that there's a brand-new episode of Trappo, and it's mostly about porn. It's also about some other stuff, but nobody gives a shit, so here's the episode. Ta-Dah!
That's it. That's all I've got. One whole month is in the books, and all I've got to show for it is one lousy podcast. I'd like to say that next month I'll try to do better, but why bother? New Trappo whenever the fuck I get around to it.
STAY SPOOKY, MOTHERFUCKERS!
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