I am not easily grossed out, but this story hit me on a couple of levels.

Ex-porn star Houston says she became so used to marketing her celebrity status that when she got a labiaplasty, it was a no-brainer to encase her labia “trimmings” in lucite and sell them.

Labiaplasty is simply another form of female genital mutilation, so I find that repellent. That women feel compelled to get their genitals sculpted to fit some inappropriate ideal is criminal (the rest of the article at that link talks about how society discards porn stars). And that some sick, sick man has these lumps of flesh displayed on his mantel somewhere … what the heck is wrong with you?

I don’t want to know what that guy (and you know it is a guy) is doing with them.

Here, quick, puppies! Think about cute little baby puppies!

Awww, urge to hork fading…fading…gone.

I’m going to my high school reunion later this summer, and I’ve just had a revelation that will color the experience. A Catholic philosopher has exposed the awful truth.

In the column, published last week, the writer argued that one reason the children of gay parents should not be admitted to Catholic schools is the “real danger” that they would bring pornography to school.

I remember high school, and I remember some of the guys who would bring porn to school, or had it in their homes. I remember groups of guys getting together on the football field to snigger over the latest centerfold.

I had no idea they were all gay! Or that their parents were gay!

I’m going to have to bring that up at the party. I’m hoping that all those jocks have melted down into plump balding insurance salesmen, though, so I don’t get beat up too bad.

I’m still baffled by one thing, though. Why were all those hedonistic gay boys drooling over pictures of naked girls? I don’t think I saw a single scrap of gay porn until the internet was discovered and fundamentalist Christians started sending me pictures of men having sex with each other.

Sadly for them, someone told them it meant relations in public.

It’s hard to believe that no one at the magazine looked at that cover and noticed that it might have some unfortunate associations, especially given recent church history. Either they are extraordinarily naive, rather stupid, or somebody on the inside was engaging in a little media sabotage.

It’s a conspiracy. I was sent another magazine cover.

Yeah, the Catholic church is full of mass debaters.

I guess Zeno does. Good thing, too, or we would have missed this gem of inanity.

Someone writes in, worried that after they’re dead, the ghosts of her parents and in-laws might follow her around, watching her have sex or go to the bathroom or other such private matters. Who knew the dead were all voyeurs? Anyway, Abby offers some dubious advice.

Calm down. The departed sometimes “visit” those with whom their souls were intertwined, but usually it’s to offer strength, solace and reassurance during difficult times. If your mother-in-law’s spirit visits you while you’re intimate with her son, it will be only to wish you and her son many more years of closeness and happiness in your marriage.

As to your parents, when they travel to the hereafter, I am sure they’ll have more pleasant things with which to occupy their time than spying on you. So hold a good thought and quit worrying.

How does she know?

I’m really impressed that she reassures a woman worried about being spied upon by her mother-in-law’s ghost by telling her that sure, the old lady might pop by while her son is humping away, but it would only be to cheer the couple along. Yeah, what a consoling thought — next time you’re having sex, imagine your mother-in-law’s spirit there, whispering in your ear with advice. “Harder, harder!” or “Now do that thing with your tongue…he really likes that.” Ewwww.

At least now I remember why I don’t read Dear Abby.

I was told all the time as a kid that you mustn’t swallow chewing gum, because it just piles up in your guts and clogs up all the works and you will die. They lied to me — it just passes through the gut like anything else. So please stop sticking your unpleasant wads under desktops or spitting them out onto the sidewalk, OK?

Of course, this isn’t a problem for me because of my sole superpower.

Some of you may know that I have a Wikipedia page. Others may know that I also have a page on Conservapædia, which helpfully links to this site with a warning, “Non-family-friendly content warning” (it must be effective, I get almost no traffic from it). Now, though, I have discovered a page that tells the real-live genuine bonafide truth about me: I’m on Uncyclopedia. You shall be horrified at what I have done, as was I.

I am reminded that I should not forget Rational Wiki!