Mantra Films, the makers of the fine and widely heralded Girls Gone Wild video series have begun the advertising and release of a series of tapes aimed at women and gay men who have yet to figure out how to use the internet properly. The videos and DVDs, creatively dubbed Guys Gone Wild, bear such subtitular gems as Heat Stroke, Dude, Where’s my Pants?, and Big Gaping Anus.
Copy writing aside, I assert that said tapes are a travesty both to pornography in general and the Girls Gone Wild series in particular. Now, now! Before you get your panties/evocatively distended boxer briefs in a bunch, hear me out. I assure you I have personally submitted to hours of grueling first-hand research on the topic of men baring it all, and I believe I am finally ready to release my findings.
Put in the simplest terms, guys do not GO WILD. This is a scientific fact, catalogued as early as the 19th century in Charles Darwin’s oft overlooked work, Origin of the He/Shes. At the very most, guys have been known to grunt or seethe menacingly during sex. More generally, they tend to maintain a strict silence policy that allows nothing more than heavy breathing, the whispering of pornographic phrases, and the occasional colorful description of a woman’s action, as in “It’s so hot how you’re #$@%ing my &!@%.”
In the Guys Gone Wild tapes, however, men are depicted as being so overcome with exhibitionist fervor that they bare their blowpops in the middle of a crowded (though admittedly drunk-swarmed) street. Yes, a girl may expose her beautiful and ripened breasts to the hungry public; it is joys like this that make life worth living! And to do so, she need only fling her shirtfront above her head in an act of wildness and debauchery so freeing, so liberating to the female spirit, that she momentarily forgets the stale draft of humiliation already gnawing at her soul. Oh, what beauty!
Truly, the nature of the act itself declares its very rightness! How else would one explain the unique method of shirt lifting seen almost universally in these cases? It is an action that serves a twofold purpose, as it both reveals the breasts and obscures the face, removing possible distraction. An act so graceful and elegant must be recognized as the work of God Himself! And yet, in contrast, what man would maintain a feeling of sexual liberation long enough to unbuckle his belt, unbutton his pants, unzip his fly, and fish around in his boxers in order to unveil his (by this time semi-flaccid) deathpole? I’m losing my bulging erection just typing about it!
Only a paid actor would do so, and it would have to be a particularly resilient one at that. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if the so-called “candid shots” are actually done in front of a greenscreen with the aid of fluffers, body-doubles, and multiple takes! And as Thomas Jefferson would have said were he alive today, “if our pornography be without integrity, then what hope be there for our country?” If I am mistaken, if these Guys Gone Wild truly are, as the website proclaims, “the hottest young college hunks ready and willing to show off their hard bodies and much, much more,” then I shudder to think of the exploitation of our nation’s young men who, unlike their female counterparts, have had no experience with being made meaningless sexual objects. I say, let women, who are best fit to bear the burden of objectification and sexism, do so! And let our young men get back to what they do best: winning wars and nailing whores!
My proposed solution to the problem presented by Mantra Films’ Guys Gone Wild series is quite simply this: Girls of America, you must go wilder than ever before. I call on every woman of 18-22 years of age and under 120 lbs. (Asians preferred) to go absolutely batshit looney. Stride proudly through America’s malls, braless, bead-strewn, and vaginally shorn. Drop trow at the least provocation. Did the guy on line in front of you at the Radio Shack offer you a piece of gum? Blow him, for God’s sake, right then and there! Did the pizza man’s “you have a nice evening” sound just a little too friendly? Call up the sewing circle and prepare to gangbang him into the infirmary. What I call forth is an ocean of tight, well-groomed pudenda, a never-ending field of perky breasts, a nation-wide inebriation of the feminine youth!
Only through this, the baring of every succulent breast from sea to shining sea, can we, by comparison, lessen the wildness in our young men and hopefully run the Guys Gone Wild film line out of business. Towards the same end, I call on every Specious.com reader to begin an immediate and total boycott of the Guys Gone Wild films and the Guys Gone Wild website. Anyone purchasing Guys Gone Wild tapes deserves to be dragged into the street and shot for their perversion of America’s pornographic and late night television commercial landscapes.
An obvious exception must be made, of course, in the case of researchers like myself. My purchasing of Guys Gone Wild 9: Mixed Nutz and recent subscription to the “circle jerk” inner webring of guysgonewild.com are necessary evils that, I assure you, have left me nothing but exhausted, sore-wristed, and pleasantly drained.