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July 20, 2007

This Softcore Porn Doesn’t Get the Job Done

A Codependent Collegian Guest Editorial
by Wyatt Farina, Penn State Class of ‘09


Farina: Harder Than a Bristle Brush

You know, I’ve been home from college now for almost two months, and in that time I haven’t had a date, let alone blown a creamy load of nut butter in some chick’s snatch. And for a few weeks, I thought I could tough it out by pounding my salami to the softcore porno on my parents cable. You know what I mean—the shit that comes on Cinemax around eleven every night.

But I was wrong. This softcore porn isn’t getting the job done, and my balls are bluer than a Smurf covered in grape jelly.

Man, have you ever seen this shit? First of all, the attempts at plot are even worse than in real porn if you can believe it. Last night I saw one where ‘Tom’ and ‘Jessica’ were having marital trouble, and within three nanoseconds they’re at some exotic island retreat, go to see some high-priced shrink, and BOOM: a three-way crotch snarf-fest comes outa nowhere.

What makes these skin flicks unwatchable, though, is that you can tell these people aren’t even screwing each other. I’m no physicist, but when Pablo the Cabana Boy is sitting on some babe’s lower abdomen, a solid six inches from her cunt, and her legs are closed, and he’s gyrating like, back and forth an inch at a time, that’s not fucking. When I walked in on my roommate [Ben McCormick] doing Cindy Brewer doggy-style over the toilet, both of them drenched in sweat, and Cindy bracing herself with her left hand and mashing her C-cup tits with her right, and Ben had a few fingers jammed in her ass, and you could totally see Cindy’s pussy mucus glistening on Ben’s shaft as he roared back and forth, THAT was fucking.

So in conclusion, this softcore porno blows major midget-ass, and I need to get laid. If any of you Penn State shorties are feeling sorry for a brother, and want the best three minutes of your life, holla at your love machine, Wyatt.

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