Who da' thunk it? Christians like to do the wangdangdoodle just like normal people. (And other quick hits for giggles and shits.)

My apologies for being away so long.  I was kidnapped just outside of Palm Springs and forced to smoke crack and party with my abductors.  And I don't even like crack.  Except for the crack on a lady, if you know what I mean...and...oh, never mind.

I found a bunch of goofy little items around the interwebs (between hits off the pipe), but nothing so earth shattering that would inspire me to those long, thought provoking posts that I am justifiably famous for.

What's my position on Christian sex?  Uh...missionary, I guess. 

This is one of those stories (thanks to tbird, as always) that makes the folks at the Los Angeles Times and the New York Times all scratch their heads.  Christians?  Fucking?  With sex toys?  Why, what manner of Christians are these?  I've never heard the like and I certainly don't know any Bible thumpers myself.  At this point they will assign a reporter to do one of those stories where they observe the behavior of Christians or conservatives like they just found one of those lost-in-time Cargo Cults in Papua, New Guinea.

Yes, there are sex toy websites that are aimed at the Christian market.  Book22.com was started by the aptly named Joy Wilson.  It stands for the 22nd book of the Bible, Song of Solomon (or Song of Songs, depending on which version you go by).  Joy says that she and her husband carefully evaluate the products before adding them to the catalog.  Which means they pray about it, for all you heathens out there.  It all looks like any other sex toy website, except a quick search for "butt plug" came up empty, so to speak.  Too gay, perhaps?  The other website mentioned, Mybelovedsgarden.net, does offer an interesting device that goes up the male butt for prostate stimulation.  And when I say it looks interesting, I mean I think I want to get one.  The only difference that I could see from a Christian and a secular sex product website is there are no bobble tit chicks modeling the lingerie and no porn DVD's on the Christian sites.  That and when they say marital aids...they mean MARITAL!!

So I guess Christian sex is here to stay since it's the only surefire way to make more Christians.  That ought to bug the shit out of the New York Times.

Marital Aid Nostalgia. 

No wonder you have "daily tensions, aches and pains", my dear. 

You're completely unaware of where your 

goodie button is and the ad is certainly no help. 

Randy candy gets father fuming.  

Another h/t from the intrepid tbird.  (I don't know what I'm going to do when his unemployment checks run out and he'll have to stop trolling the interwebs and find work.)  Original story in Daily Mail UK is here.

Simon Simpkins (I'm not making that name up) met a pieman going to the fair.  Oops, sorry, I got distracted.  Anyway, Simon was shopping for sweets with his two lil' chilluns when he was taken aback by the pornographic wrappers on the German brand fruit candy, MAOAM.  (Little known fact:  Maoam is kraut for, "Blow Me".)  "The lemon and lime are locked in what appears to be a carnal encounter.  The lime, whom I assume to be the gentleman in this coupling, has a particularly lurid expression on his face," huffed Mr. Simpkins.  Simple Simon then got into a "heated exchange" with whom I'll assume to be the most bewildered shop manager in all of Britain, when his wife became "quite distressed and had to sit down in the car park."

I think Simple Simpkins is a bit confused.

These are obviously lesbian fruits that are "scissoring".

This Limey likes 'em underage.  

Licking cherries is his bag, baby. 

Here's my take.  Simon Simpkins is shit nuts and hasn't been laid in a couple of years.  He probably looks down at a plate of fried clams and sees a Roman orgy.  His wife had to go sit in the car park after Simon embarrassed her for the umpteenth time by acting like a flaming arsehole.  His wife hasn't fucked him in two years because he is always acting like a flaming arsehole in public places.   If you follow the comments at the end of the story even his fellow Brits think Simon is a half baked PC crackpot.

Simon Simpkins is only slightly less crazy than the dipshit muslims that got Burger King to pull their ice cream because they were insulted by the swirly logo.  They said it looked like the word "Allah" in Arabic.  Where are the South Park guys when you need them?  You really can't make this shit up.  Aren't there enough legitimate opportunities to be pissed off in life?  Why would you want to make yourself miserable by going out of your way to look for them.

The University of Obvious will conclude next that water is wet.

Men can figure out if a chick is hot in a millisecond.  Women take a little longer to ascertain if a certain male is mate material.  Yep.  That's it.  Three researchers and god only knows how much tax money went into this one.

Actually, for the men I think a millisecond is a bit leisurely.  Nanosecond is more like it.  Nice face, nice tits, nice ass...Me Want!  All squeezed into a blink of an eye.  Then the move is on to look for the next one.  Does anybody wonder how a titty bar with the same lone stripper night after night would do?  Maybe these geniuses at the University of Amsterdam could tackle that topic next.  (Or just look out the window and see the smorgasbord of whore houses in your home city.)  Men like variety and lots of it.  Duh.

Miss Right.  

Lather, rinse and repeat every couple of months. 

Of course women take a little longer.  You have to at least get to his place.  Determine he's not a complete tool or serial killer.  Check out his car.  Get a rough estimate of his net worth.  Then see if there's piss stains on the toilet and pubes on the soap.   All that takes a while.

 Mr. Right. 

For a man that rains money he could be a lot uglier. 

Move your big ass over, Kim Kardashian, celebrity sex tapes go global.

A couple of celebrities are caught up in a sex tape scandal.  Ho hum, say you.  What is it Tuesday?  This one, however, is a slightly bigger deal since it takes place in Indonesia.  Indonesia is majority muslim and extremely repressive.  They gots laws against this kind of thing, hombre.  The clips purportedly show pop star Nazril "Ariel" Ilham (that's a dude, BTW) doing the shag nasty with his TV star girlfriend, Luna Maya.  Another tape has him hiding the salami with with actress, Cut Tari.  (Getting deep in the "Cut", as it were.)  So there you have it.  A couple of sex tapes.  Only two?  Shit, Motley Crue singer Vince Neil could whip up two sex tapes before breakfast without raising a sweat.

Nazril Ilham and fuckmate Maya Luna 

went from porn video to hostage video. 

She's pretty hot.  On porn sites their

 sex tape would be categorized under "Exotic". 

Unlike Vince, bandmate Tommy Lee, Kim Kardashian, Kendra Wilkinson and all the rest of the celebrity skanks that use "leaked" or "stolen" homemade porn tapes as a career move, Nazril could wind up in the jug for 12 years.  Tifatul Sembiring, who is the Indonesian Information Minister, has expressed disgust at the clips.  Which in the course of his duties he has had to watch approximately 122 times.  "Why would anyone tape such a private thing?" he also added.  A question that could only be asked by a repressed muslim who probably has to flog his genitals with a cat o' nine tails if the wind blows the hajib off a woman's head in his presence.  (A bit of advice.  If you find yourself in a country that feels the need for an Information Minister get the fuck out of there.)

All these shenanigans, of course, have brought about talk that the muslim dominated government will now start cracking the whip over internet content.

Good luck with that.

Instead of worrying about the internet, maybe they should keep a closer eye on the cow fuckers.

The Funeral Guy has always kept you up to date on the latest in the world of bestiality.  Archives here and here.  ( That reminds me.  Note to self:  Work on that post about Al Gore and the "happy ending" massage.)

An 18 year old man in Indonesia was caught boning his neighbor's cow.  Good lord.  Is no barnyard safe?  The farmer said Gusti Ngurah Alit was "standing naked while holding the back of the cow."  Yeah, kind of hard to explain that one away.  But leave it to Gusti to give it a shot.  He told the Times newspaper in Johannesburg, South Africa that he didn't see a cow, but a beautiful young woman.  "She called my name, so I had sex with her," said Gusti.  Goddam rapists!  Always trying to blame the victim.  "You should have seen that cow," Gusti fumed, "strutting around that field in a miniskirt and her high heels.  All painted up in make-up like a barnyard brothel bimbo.  No man could resist."

After living long enough in a shitty third world dirt puddle

your mind starts playing tricks on you. 

The village chief apparently agreed.  Mr. Alit was assessed a $562 fine and told to ritually wash off his stupid dick.  The cow was drowned in the sea to get rid of bad luck.

No.  I'm not kidding.

I think I'd rather have sex with the box that it came in.

Some savvy entrepreneur somehow sees mega dollars signs when he thinks about the vast multitudes of men that will lay down some hard earned schmundo to fuck a Lady Gaga doll.  I shit you not.

The blow up doll is named Lady Gag Gag.  I'm assuming that this is so he won't get his ass sued off.  The same company also has a Beyonce version.  ("She Loves ALL THREE HOLES filled.")

I'd like to take a moment of personal privilege to remind you that I came up with the name Lady Gag Gag in a post honoring the young lady's beat looking broad's birthday.

The Lady Gag Gag Love Doll.

I assume the name is also to flatter your penis.

She comes complete with that stupid Alice in Wonderland 
hair and her own tucked penis. 

No man I know is hankering to give a poke to the real Lady Gaga.  She's the definition of a butterface.   If a vote was taken tomorrow I would wager she would win the Most Annoying Celebrity Award of 2010.  Beating the Kardashian Krew by a wide ass mile.  Her music...is that music?  God almighty, I would love to get in a time machine and kill the guy that invented Auto-Tune.  Just think of the "singers" that would never have been foisted on us.  Lady Gaga, Avril Lavigne, Ke$ha (double yuck) and every other teenybopper popstress whom I can't name because of the cookie cutter crapola sameness of their "music".  

Lastly, a Lady Gag Gag fuck doll is pointless.  A dude that loves women doesn't want to fuck Lady Gaga.  Men who love Lady Gaga don't want to fuck women.  QED.

"I've had it with these motherfuckin' heads on this motherfuckin' plane."

A sharp eyed (or sharp nosed) Southwest Airlines employee called the police after finding a box of heads on a plane that was headed for the Dallas-Ft. Worth area.  The cranium cargo was headed (tee hee) to the Ft. Worth office of Medtronic which does medical research.  The exact number of brain holders is in some dispute.  Apparently nobody is volunteering for the gruesome job of doing an actual "head" count.  (tee hee.)

The no longer alive heads were not packaged or labeled correctly so the Little Rock gendarmes got on the case and handed the nomadic noggins over to Pulaski County coroner Garland Camper.  "We've come to the conclusion that there is a black market out there for human body parts for research or for whatever reason.  We just want to make sure these specimens here aren't part of that black market and underground trade."  So said coroner Camper, whom I don't think will be confused with Quincy, M.E. anytime soon.

Hey, coroner Garland Camper (love that name).  Why don't you look to see if they each have a single bullet hole in the back.  If the answer is yes, call commie China and see if any of their dissidents are missing.  Haha!   What about Al-queda?  They must have to do something with all those bearded heads after making their jihadi videos.

The supplier of the bodyless heads is an outfit named JLS consulting.  The Wynne, Arkansas, business has it's license in revocation and has blamed problems in the past on a private courier.  The founder of JLS is not answering calls.  Hmmmm??  Arkansas?  Body parts?  Hard to see how anything could go wrong there.

The Black Market for human body parts is both vast and varied.

Two things you might not know.  One, you may at anytime be flying the happy skies with this kind of cargo.  We ship bodies all the time.  You will never see a place with more lazy ass lard butt union employees than an airline cargo hanger.  (Outside of a government office, that is.)  The two words that get you to the front of the line?  Human remains.

Second.  According to federal law you cannot sell human body parts.  I think this is nanny state, anti-freedom bullshit.  Your eyes, organs, head and everything else should be yours to sell.  When you die you or your  next of kin have to give permission to have any part of you taken for donation.  So aren't they acknowledging that you belong to you?  I can sell my car.  Why not my liver?  (Not that mine would be of much use to anybody.  My liver, I mean, not my car.)

For those of you who are thinking about donating your body or a loved one's body to science, you might want to read Stiff: The Curious Life of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach.  Before you romanticize to yourself, "Mom, would have been so proud that after her death she helped in the fight against cancer." be aware that some research facility might also put her in a car and run her off a cliff just to see what happens.  Or she might take a few .50 caliber rounds to the torso so the defense department can test the effectiveness of a new weapon.  Unless it's going to a specific organ or tissue bank, once you sign over disposition of an intact body, it's out of your hands.

And those heads?  They were probably going to be used to teach already filthy rich cosmetic surgeons how to perform the latest eye lift procedure on aging socialites and movie stars.

Cameron Diaz is "Always traveling for cock." Clay Aiken says, "Is that all it takes to get noticed these days?"

I haven't given much thought to Cameron Diaz since she debuted in The Mask in 1994.  Jim Carrey's career was skyrocketing and Ms. Diaz didn't have to do much but look hot  and dance around with her smoking ass in a tight dress.  Her subsequent films were basically chick flicks.  Ho-hum.

Cameron Diaz 

A fantasy to box your goofy to.

Cameron Diaz.

After a long flight during cock hunting season.

Sixteen years later, Cameron, 37, has a new movie coming out.  (Knight and Day with an equally past his prime, Tom Cruise.  Not exactly a can't miss combination for coaxing the ten-spot out of the wallet of a recession weary public.)

But this is Hollywood where the creation of buzz is a lot more creative than acutal moviemaking, so Cameron took a roofie and a shot of sodium pentathol and went for a sit down with Playboy Magazine.  (Question:  Is the summer movie going demographic reading an old school stoke mag like Playboy?  Oh, wait.  Nobody reads Playboy, or even wanks to it much anymore.)

The skilled Playboy interviewer was able to coax some nuggets out of the delightful derrierre of the demure Ms. Diaz.  The quote that has the collective boner of the interwebs all a' throbbing is this one.  "Oh, gosh, I can't even count how many times I've gotten on a plane for love.  It's not unusual in this business; my lifestyle demands it.  I'm always traveling for cock.  You've got to go where it is."

Wow!  I would have thought that if you were Cameron Diaz the cock would come to you.  Not to mention come on you.  (She did look pretty good with a load of spoo goo in her hair in There's Something About Mary.)

Other highlights from the interview are that she is not a lesbian but she's open to having sex with women.  That is my kind of lipstick lesbian, and how.  Likes dick and vadge, but mostly dick.  Also, caveman sex gets a thumbs up and her ass will make a featured appearance on film again if given the right role.

When you sex it up with hubby five times a day,

you have to work at least one session into your pool time. 

Fuck me shoes and lube required, of course. 

In other celebrity there's-nothing-private-about-my-life news.  Melanie Brown aka Mel B aka Scary Spice tells George Lopez (a not funny comic who's developed a talent for getting C-list celebutard famewhores to talk about everything from their vaginas to their sex lives) that she keeps her rockin' bod rock hard by...are you ready?  Shagging!!  Yes, Mel and her exhausted husband make the beast with two backs five times a day.  Or just three times on a day when her schedule is otherwise full.  She is a mom, after all.  Beats the shit out of a recumbent bike or a Bowflex, I can tell 'ya.  How does her husband, music producer Stephen Belafonte, feel about his wife putting his sexy bidness out dere in da street?  He has no comment, but like most guys I'm sure he's perfectly OK with the world knowing what a studmuffin he is.

h/t Huffpo which I always thought was a political website, but has become the go-to place for breaking celebrity sex news.

Curb your erection. Is Al Gore banging Larry David's ex??!!

Or, on the other hand, this could be complete and utter horseshit.

When news of the global cooling of the Gore marriage was first revealed, I thought that Al was going to come out as Big Gay Al.  An ideal both revolting and hysterical at the same time.  For some reason Al always came off as somewhat of a closet queen to me.

Throw in Sheryl Crow and you have a menage et twat.

Al Gore and Laurie David, huh?  Well, they do have a lot in common.  They're both private jet flying, huge mansion living enviro-bores and imperious, self-righteous scolds.  Taking a break from telling the rest of us how to live to sneak around for fuck time is....I really don't know what to say.  The image of a red-faced huffing, puffing and humping Albert Gore, Jr. is almost too repugnant for words.  Not only is the world not getting hotter, but I probably won't be sporting a boner again till I can get the picture of these two boning doggy-style out of my head.  Laurie David is kind of MILF-y, (like a lot of Plain Janes with a shitload of money to spend on themselves) but what an insufferable yenta.  

If this match made in heaven is true (Ms. David denies all) there would be no two people more deserving of each other.

I swear to Gaia.

Greta Van Susteren. Asking the questions inquiring minds want to know.

There's been a buzz like a thousand buzzing bees around the interwebs for about a week now.  What is it?  Breast implants.  Did Sarah Palin get 'em?  Or is she au naturel?  I haven't put in that much thought about this since after five kids I'd rather concentrate on Sarah's legs when she has high heels on.  So I guess I'll just  leave it to Greta V. to get to the meat of things in her usual blunt style.

The money shot question is about 40 seconds in.






Well, there you go.  I know that Greta has been a big pusher of Palin since before the election, doing  interviews at the family home in Alaska and having unbelievable access.  Which is why, when asked the inappropriate question about her funbags, Sarah answered in a politically savvy way as possible.  Instead, of saying, "My tits are real Greta, but speaking of plastic surgery, shouldn't you be due for a touch-up on that mug of yours?  This time have them lift a little higher on the left side so your mouth doesn't look like Popeye's when you talk."

Vajazzle your Vajayjay? Discuss.

I found this today during my usual search for sex and death.  Vajazzle porn?  What the hell is that all about?  Which led me to a more detailed explanation of the process of vajazzling.  Vajazzling, for those of you who don't know, is the gluing of little Swarovski (which is Russian for really fucking expensive) crystals on the pubic area of a lady after she waxes down.  You know, right above the hoo-hoo.  From what I've seen on the interwebs, butterflies and fancy heart designs seem to be most popular.  I also saw one that spelled the word JUICY in multi-colored crystals, which would be perfect for the gal who would like to convey her sexuality with a tasteful sense of elegance.

Vajazzle Porn.

With free jewels included!

Fun for the whole family!

I guess a guy could do it too, but it would be so beyond gay that gay men would laugh at you.  You could call it Cockazzle.  Hey, don't anybody steal my idea.

Jennifer Love Hewitt started the trend when she went on Lopez Tonight (yeah, George Lopez has a talk show, and no, I wasn't aware of it either) and talked about how after a break up with her boyfriend she started vajazzling to make her feel better about her "precious lady".  I would have suggested that a new boyfriend playing with her "precious lady" would make her feel even better about things, but that's just me.  Although I do have to say that listening to Jennifer Love Hewitt talking about her privates makes my own privates get a little jazzled if you know what I mean.

Bryce Gruber can't wait for her man 

to try out her glittery new jewel pie. 

As you know, I always like to get to the nitty-gritty possibilities on these kinds of matters.

Let's just say, unbeknownst to you, your darling inamorata has gone and vajazzled her runway of love.  Bedtime arrives and you are pleasantly surprised that your dear treasure is acting frisky without you even having to beg.  Kiss, Kiss....uummmmm...  Down come the panties and whoooahhh!   "Ohhh, that's different...I mean....NICE!"  You say while she sashays a bit with her hands on her hips.  All the while you're thinking, "That's kind of weird, actually.  Did she do that for my benefit?"  Yes, dumbfuck, she did.  So get to it.  And you do.  It's non-routine sex and you're a guy so you put the vajazzle visual aside and bang away make the love.  Things get a bit sweaty and you start to notice that your personal nether regions are becoming vajazzled.  Even worse, as things progress, you're doing that ptooooey, ptooooey thing because you have little glass thingies in your mouth.  Bleeehh, this is worse than the 80's when you were always getting pubes in your teeth.  You then spend the next few days picking Swarvoski crystals out of your ass because they're stuck up in the sheets as well.

The tab for this little added spice to your sex life?  $175.00 and up.  Enjoy.

Just a quick comment on genital jewelry in...uh...general.  Not a big fan, myself.  It really is impossible to improve on nature.  (My views on fake plastic bobble tits are well known.)  For whatever reason when I see a photo of a girl with a clittie ring it's a turnoff.  It's a couple of things, I guess.  Why would somebody want to run a piercing needle through that most delicate of areas?  I can picture a lot of different outcomes from this activity and most of them are bad, oozy and possibly permanent.  Maybe it's because I've always been so protective of my own giggle stick.  Also, I've always had the impression, rightly or wrongly, that a woman who would do that to herself is probably not only open, but anxious, to do something kinky to you.  The kind of chick that on your second date wants to drip hot candle wax on your balls or make you shit in a diaper.  I know this may surprise you but The Funeral Guy was never much for fetish games or outrageous kink.  (And at my age I have to be mindful of my back.)   I've only had one experience with a pierced goodie button.  It was distracting and in the back of my mind I was afraid one of us was going to tear something.

So ladies.  If you want to vajazzle the "V" or hang a chain off your yum yum, go ahead, I guess.  But don't gild the lily for us.  I would bet if you asked most men they'd tell you that when it comes to that particular part of you, plain 'ol vanilla is just fine.

Cemeteries...They're not just for dead people anymore.

I love cemeteries.  Always have.  Which may seem weird or not.  Its not like I had a lifelong dream to be in the funeral business.  (I always wanted to be a rock star so I could be buried in a cemetery really early.  Ha ha.)  It wasn't even that I liked funerals.  As a matter of fact I avoided them when I was younger always making some excuse not to go to one.  In fact, I was usually on the road, but I now regret missing the funerals of some family members.

Where I grew up in Ohio there were many old cemeteries that were suitably eerie at night.  Cemeteries were good places to go for making out and getting high.  Scared and tipsy girls were girls that wanted to get close to you.  Always a good start.  Mainly though, I just liked how quiet and peaceful cemeteries were.  And I'm speaking as one who is not a camping or outdoorsy type person.  I like looking at the markers and reading the names and dates.  Especially now that a lot of markers have pictures on them. They have a really nice mausoleum in Ivy Lawn Memorial Park where they have a columbarium with windowed cremation niches.  You can see where families have set up little dioramas with photos, medals and other memorabilia along with the urn.  Santa Paula Cemetery has a section where they have folks that died in the mid 1800's.  For California that's an old cemetery.  Fascinating.

For me, the best part of the funeral service is after it's over (and all went well) and I can start to relax while everyone is chatting around the casket before going to the reception.  My associate and I will people watch and take notice of all the family dynamics.  It's also funny to watch women all dressed up walking through the grass as their high heels sink into the ground.  Didn't think of that when you got dressed this morning, did you, honey?  The exception to this tranquil revery is when it's really hot and all I want is for everyone in their summer frocks and short sleeved shirts to clear the hell out so I can get my dark-suited ass back in the air-conditioned hearse.

Memorial Day festivities at Olinger Crown Hill Cemetery.

This story featuring Olinger Crown Hill Cemetery in Wheat Ridge, Colorado highlights a direction I've been seeing for awhile.  Cemeteries are sprucing up and holding events to bring folks in to give them something to relate the grounds to other than the fact that their loved ones are under it.  As Crown Hill general manager Kevin Wolfe wonderfully puts it, "People come to cemeteries, and they are always looking down."  Why do you think most cemeteries all called memorial parks now?  (You'll never hear a professional refer to a graveyard.)   I must admit I miss seeing upright tombstones.  Most places require ground markers.  Easier for the groundskeepers, you see.  Anyway, jazz concerts, fireworks on Memorial Day and summer potlucks are all on tap at Crown Hill.

 Wee Kirk o' the Heather at Forest Lawn Glendale.

At Forest Lawn Glendale there is Wee Kirk o' the Heather chapel that has hosted weddings for decades.  When I was doing pre-need for Forest Lawn I met a couple who were married there and their funerals will both be done there.  Married and buried in the same place.  Sweet.

Johnny Ramone's Memorial at Hollywood Forever.

Hollywood Forever ("Resting place of Hollywood's Immortals") hosts movie nights.  My co-worker went to one a couple of weeks ago and saw North by Northwest.  They set up a huge screen outside right on the grounds.  He said it was fun with kind of a punk crowd atmosphere.

I think this is a good trend.  Most of us will take our eternal rest in a cemetery.  Shouldn't you get to know and maybe even enjoy the place now while you can?

What one guy imagines the funerals I direct turn into.

And that guy is tbird, naturally.  Like Winston Churchill's pudding that lacked "theme", tbird felt the same about the new look of TFG.  To that end he sent me one.

If you love good caricature you have to visit the site of Victor Juhasz.  He is simply an awesome artist.

One of The Funeral Guy's services descends into chaos.  

Street Kill...L.A. Style.

I was looking for pictures for another post and I came across this guy's blog.  He has an interesting hobby.  He takes pictures of the dead critters he encounters on his Los Angeles walkabouts.

The interwebs have something for everyone.  He also takes photos of flowers and other city life.  I know L.A. pretty well, and this guy, whoever he is, captures the flavor of it quite nicely.  He must also really like to walk.  In this city he's one of the few.

Go here if you enjoy dead animal stuff (all in various stages of decomposition).

A native Los Angeles rat.  

Don't know which gang he belonged to but, 

he is most assuredly deceased. 

More new stuff.

I have decided to set-up an email address for The Funeral Guy.  You can click on My Profile and there it is.  Send me weird stories or other items of interest.  Or just say Hi.

Here it is.   thefuninfuneral.death@gmail.com

This is an experiment.  Do not send me pictures of your penis.

No Penis.

The Funeral Guy Motto