The Fleshlight Launch bills itself as the “Complete Automated Virtual Masturbator System,” and allows you to sync the motion of your Fleshlight to your computer via Bluetooth. The reviews are dismal, mentioning that the product comes apart during use, the Bluetooth disconnects, and the controls don’t work. You’ve already lost dignity by setting your computer up to pull your pud; having to click through menus and put your equipment back together while nude and lubed makes the situation exponentially worse.

(I’ve pixellated part of the product, but you probably know what a Fleshlight looks like by now. If you don’t, the uncensored pic is on the listing.)

Load your eggs into this expensive plastic tray and it will tell your phone when your eggs are about to go bad. It will also show you which eggs are the oldest and should be eaten first. None of this makes sense, when you consider that eggs are sold in a paper carton with an expiration date, and if you have two cartons, you can eat the eggs from the older one first. 

I covered the Rockabye Baby series of cover albums last year. But for some reason, a new series, called Twinkle Twinkle Rock Star, has decided they want to compete with Rockabye Baby in making twinkling-bell covers of music that 30-year-olds like. It wouldn’t be worth mentioning at all if they hadn’t made a Phish-For-Babies album, but they did.

“Shhh, shhh,” the Phish dad says, as his child cries. “Just keep listening. You’ll get into it. Trust me. You’ll be a Phish-head any day now.” He picks up the ipod, clicks around for a moment, and sets it back down. “Phish isn’t the only jam band, either, kid. I’ve got a lullaby version of Widespread Panic that’ll really make you twirl in circles in a dirty field for hours.”           

The 50 grams of protein in each of these Carnivor protein shots is made from approximately 6 ounces of raw lean beef. If you’re wondering “how can it taste good if you chemically process beef and condense it into four ounces of liquid?” the answer is that it doesn’t.

The thick, sickly-sweet liquid goes down your gullet without too much complaint, but then there’s the aftertaste. To condense the beef into liquid, it’s hydrolyzed, which means it’s treated with enzymes to chop the long beef protein strands into shorter pieces. This mix of amino acids and short proteins tastes remarkably similar to protein that’s broken down inside your own gastric system by largely the same process as the hydrolysis.

Which means: it’s vomit. It’s actual, honest-to-god beef vomit. If you ate six ounces of raw beef, let it digest a little bit, then horked it back up, mixed in a kool-aid packet, and sucked it back down, you’ve got Carnivor.

And if you bought the twelve-pack, you’ve still got 11 to go.

I’m sorry, child chef! I just thought that–

I’m sorry, coffee mug!

I’m sorry, teddy bear!

I’m really sorry, 2-pack of can coolers!!!

AAAAAH I’M SORRY!!!!!!

Why should seasonal sex-costumes be limited to Halloween? The women’s Sexy Mrs. Claus up there is about what you’d expect, and as usual, there’s a men’s equivalent, which is a sweater with mistletoe on the bottom, and an arrow that says to kiss the wearer’s dick.

But there is worse. Much worse than either of these. I present to you: the full-body, skin-tight spandex Santa suit. No clicking if you think you might have nightmares about a faceless Santa with a visible package.

The only thing worse than poopshame is being proud of the turds you birth. The “Kama Pootra” is guilty of this shitpride, not least of all in the “About The Author” section, where the author proudly states that he graduated from the University of California at Davis. We can only wonder if UC Davis is equally proud of having pushed this spicy meatball through their hallowed passages.