University Websites are the Schizophrenic Children of the Internet.

Okay. People go through ordeals and, from those ordeals, we get experience. Experience in dealing with certain types of people, with handling tools or vehicles; in short, any activity in life that you can shake a stick at, and stick-shaking itself. And, I'm going to divulge what I've learned on my journey for Higher Education in the future, in other words, sifting through the steaming excrement of University websites.

And I'm going to be a bit frank here, I didn't quite like it as much as I wanted to.

I have, as a matter of fact, handled and interacted with websites created by pre-pubescent boys that had a better sense of 'intuitive design' than the overpaid crockpots that make University websites. Yes, it's easier to navigate a site about ninja, game systems and Naruto fanfiction than it is to see the basic information for a University-level course.

In general, when you design the front page of the Website, you should design it in such a way that you have all the possible needs of the visitor in front of him, behind a small, legible and aesthetically pleasing selection of links which concisely tell you what you'll find yourself reading when you treat said link with a humble click of the mouse. In most cases, I believe, a user would enjoy looking at a website to see the faculties, centers and institutes of said University presented, in and orderly fashion, in front of him, and thus allowing him to simply choose the course which he so rightfully desires to take. And once you click the title of that course, he should expect and receive the information for that course. So, basic information (like, say, possible course duration depending on whether you're part-time or full-time, the basic requirements, the outline of the course and even, if needed, the courses it opens doors to.) should be easily accessible from the very beginning, making good use of hyperlinks to cross reference to other material, related to what you're looking at, that sleeps dormant in the alleys and avenues of the website.

I'm not saying that the sites didn't have all the information. Far from it. I'm just saying that it was cluster-fucked between paragraphs of by-laws, information on other courses, hyperlinks that never quite made it and then having said information blown up and spread across the four corners of the pathetic excuse of a website.

What's more is the lack of standards in anything and everything, ESPECIALLY in information. Once, on the same University site I learned that a course in journalism could be completed in a year at full-time, two years part-time. Imagine my surprise when ten minutes later I see ANOTHER page on the site and it says it takes four years to complete.

Am I supposed to flip a coin here? I'm not Batman, and the web-designer isn't the riddler, so I fail to comprehend the reason as to why such basic information fluctuates more than the temperature of a woman's utilities during menopause.

Another puzzler I ran into was when I found that the CCT (center of communication technology) offered two diploma level courses, one in Journalism. "That's not a shocker though Mr. Shpow!" Well, no, but finding out they later pulled the ol' switcharoo on me did. Later they seemed to change 'Diploma in Journalism' to, what was it? Ah yes, 'diploma in archiving and data management'. Not much of an expert here, but I gotta say, that doesn't quite translate into journalism, does it? And they do this with other courses too, shuffling names like a card-dealer in Vegas.

And please, if you insist on writing references to by-laws on a website arbritrarily, the very least you could do is, oh I don't know, throw a LINK to the said law. It's not that hard, you do it like this. Not quite rocket science, and I'll even show you the code used to make that handy, clickable reference:

"<a href="http://www.blogger.com/">this</a>".

And you know what the funny thing is? It took considerable more work to make that bit of code visible to you guys in comparison to making the hyperlink. And I know as much as the next guy about HTML, and the next guy is Edgar. He's kinda illiterate and thought that HTML was an abbreviation of his next favourite burger at McDonald's. But I'm sure he'd do a great job nonetheless. Why? Because Edgar isn't a sadist.

And then we ask why people such as this student (fig 1.1) shoot up University Campuses.

Fig 1.1: Disgruntled student

"I WASN'T SURE WHAT COURSE I HAD APPLIED FOR. ALL YEAR! MOTHERF#%!ERS!"

Katching A Triumph Yearly

See the Humming Bird fly to its Nest,
To learn flying from only the Best,

To and Fro; Back and Forth,
Winter South; Summer North,

Moving so Nimble,

A Runner's Symbol,

See the Humming Bird fly to its Nest,

To learn living better than the Rest.

A Poem to Intrigue ░▒▓

So today I wrote a poem. Or a song. I did it to relieve some tension off, so it's unpolished, just something I came up with. On the spot.

There's only so much a man should ask for,
Standards set by the men of long before,
But as they come,
And as they Go,
I shout so loudly so my pleas are heard,
I know they'll judge me and call me absurd,

But please, don't ignore me!
I only ask to be free.

But please, don't ignore me!
I only ask to be free.

It has been some years since we have last spoken,
And when we did you left me a token,
There I asked you,
Again twice more,
But all you gave me before you walked out,
But all you left was a myriad of doubt.

Soon I found my way out of the desert,
After twice my body's weight in effort,
I staggered out,
Beat and starving,
I just chose what the standard should be now,
I just worked till blood poured out of my brow.

But please, don't ignore me!
I only ask to be free.

But please, don't ignore me!
I only ask to be free.

S'all I ask!

Ten things I hate

How quickly time passes.

Fanatics over anything.

My school shoes 

Twilight 

People who contradict their natures so people 'accept' them .

Misogynist fucks that treat women like masturbatory aids.

Women that use men for money and sex.

People who exaggerate things.

People who are double-faced.

Close minded people who have a source of knowledge limited to only media (hey faux news disciples).

False reports on news channels/sites.

Stupidity (NO CHICKEN NUGGETS OMG FUCKING CALL 911 THREE TIMES).

People who are so insecure they have to act tough and be douchewands to feel like they shouldn't wash their mouth out with buckshot when they get home.

Hair in any type of food.

Lag in videogames. 

People who can't keep their heavy drinking/smoking/pimping/whoring lifestyles to themselves. 

Being late Passive aggressive comments. 

Stupid lawsuits.

Divorcewhores. 

Pro-abortionists. 

People who aren't individual thinkers. 

Cliché love songs (fucking eurovision and nigger love music, I hate it all) 

Akon.

Whatever rap, bar Tu pac (hip hop but whatever).

Retarded atheists (I once heard a Richard Dawkin's quote. Whatever you say I can refute and prove false! What do you mean my argument doesn't apply? Well, uhh, your GOD doesn't apply hahah tooth fairy).

Plagiarism(I once heard the MGS theme song on an ad for something disgustingly boring and retarded. I raged.)

Stupid television shows.

Fake modesty or unwarranted deprecciation.

Callous assumptions.

Annoying children Spoiled brats. 

Open doors People who whisper, I read lips, the fact you're going pssswwssswpspspsppwpwsssswwpwpws all the god damned time is just fucking annoying. 

People who can't learn to leave a man that's painting alone, especially when they're not good-looking women.

DeviantArt. 

People who pick up gun knowledge from Call of Duty.

Feces anywhere on the floor. Dog shit, horseshit I don't give a fuck it's the twenty-first century. 

We have as much shit in the streets as we did 500 years ago what the fuck. 

Fuckers I'm sleeping and listening to dream music, don't you fucking dare touch my face. 

Oh your smoking near me indoors, how about you inhale a bit more smoke? Yeah, gimme that cigarette and let me ram it up your nostril. 

People who whine when things don't go as they wished, due to lack of self-will. 

Videogame-film movies that have potential but fail. 

Girls who can't make up their fucking mind. 

Girls that like assholes. 

Gasless cola 

Boring people 

People who insist on hiding emotions from me; even though it's futile. 

Studying literature at ordinary level.

Egocentric people Drivers with no etiquette.

Grumpy elders.

Bullshit policies.

Expensive food and drink.

Disney Disney-derived bands and crazes. 

Whores.

Packed lunch.

Noise in the morning.

People who can't use sarcasm.

People who don't understand good humour.

Bad smells.

Songs which are played to death. 

Incoherent people.

Maltese fahking Literature.

Attractive girls who LOOK like my type but end up being annoying. 

How fucking small fast food from chain restaurants is. 

People driving LOUD cars in small streets (like mine) and have engines which make noise that PENETRATE THE FUCKING 'SOUND PROOF' GLASS.

'Sound proof' glass. 

People who don't get my humour. (BRYNSKITSFUCK) 

Extremists. 

People who compare "indie cred". Defeats the point, douchebag. 

Soccer moms. Don't care if I already listed it. 

People that try to drive out of the gate of a school when ALL THE STUDENTS ARE LEAVING, AND END UP FUCKING HONKING THEIR HORNS! Just fucking leave the gate when there aren't 300 students waiting for a ride back home SHEESH.

Ninja vs pirate/spartan/knight WHATEVER debates that can't be truly solved since battle depends on more than who has the toughest armour or best weapons. 

A month of having one exam a week then they switch to having an exam everyday. 

Nerds that abuse Monty Python. Disgrace. 

Neg rep on CADforums. God they're dumb. 

Morose people with no psychiatric problems or bad lives. 

Loud, rude people that talk long enough for me to start doubting life. 

Loud, rude people. 

"Emos ROCK!" *devil horn-hand symbol here* 

Bands featuring Autumn, ashes, roses or WHATEVER. 

Bands with names that have more words than the lyrics of their original discography. 

Guys that would rather play Videogames than speaking to the girflriend they've been cheating on, while she keeps trying to make it work because he said he agrees with her. People who give too much importance to their appearance. 

You.

That's not all of it.

Ok, a BIT more than ten things I hate. (Satire btw.)

Exams sit well with me.

Heh, so I'm doing my O'levels. My my, such a big boy, aren't you Shpow? And these exams so far aren't all that bad. Even Maltese. Heck, I'm imagining how they came about to designing the paper that will help the young Maltese flex and express their knowledge of their mother tongue accurately. They probably drew up a myriad of propositions to give to the Big Cheese so he can simply check and tick what he wants in there. In the comfort of his office, to simply choose a few exercise for 15-year-olds to work out.

"Oh, just put in EVERYTHING!"

And he wasn't freakin' kidding was he? I swear, we have so much to write in that exam compared to every other subject one would think MATSEC stood for "Maltese Assosciate of Traumatic and Sadistic Exams for Children". In fact, I'm pretty sure it does stand for that. I think, in tomorrow's exam, I'll be writing as much as I did in English, Maths and Physics COMBINED. And I swear if it's a hard paper, I'll be waltzing down to MATSEC for a little chat. My words will be a sword and their blood my punctuation. 

Below: representation of how the possible conversation would ensue.

Oh',hello';.'really'!Nice';';'',.Paper''''''''''''...,,,,,,,,," " - - ;??Bye??????????!!!!!!''!!'!!!'''!!!

Yeah, and I'm paraphrasing.

So, in other news, I have gotten into the Webcomic Questionable Content. Oh addiction, I've returned to your sweet embrace! Pity I happened to have this delivered two weeks before any addictions can be permitted. Must be a sign (read: bad omen). 

Today I felt ever so peckish, for something creamy and sugary. So I tried this Sicilian bakery a block away. Great guy, clean shop, good dessert.

Pity he didn't speak a damned word of English. I may be asking much of a man who named his shop "La Siciliana", and I'm not saying he should speak English. That would be stupid.

But at least give the NAMES of the damned desserts. A little, humble label. I had to point at what I wanted and say how many I wanted in Italian. I haven't pointed at something I liked for YEARS, and that little chain of 'not-pointing-for-delicious-things-I-want' has been broken. 

But otherwise, delicious food man. Kudos.

Well, I'd write more but I'm going to go continue studying.

What?

Oh shut up.

*waves to Achie*

*waves to Simon*

Sunflower

I met a man who painted sunflowers,

On canvas on easel as tall as steel towers,

He told me what spring his inspiration flows,

The vivid flora that the nomad bestows,

He watched nature to learn how to fight,

How to dodge a Katana matter not how slight,

His name is a feared legend in the Far East,

The paintings for him are just the very least,

I knew well the man that painted sunflowers,

I met the man that cuts down he who cowers.

***

Do you like Zombies?

Talk about a long hiatus. Mm, had this hijacker on my PC that blocked a bunch of sites. Whoop-dee-freakin'-do.

Oh writing again is going to be fun.

Hmm, I changed the layout and banner, and I don't think I'll have a very hefty post today, for I'll be coming out with something a little bigger very, very soon.

Sweet dreams, oh reader/s.

It's an important thing to doubt our ways of life. To second-guess our ways of thought. To explore brilliant and exotic perspectives, or perhaps some which just take an angle slightly varied from yours. It's an important thing to compare and contrast decades, years, months, weeks and even days in your life, to see how you've grown or changed; to learn the phases one's self would go through.

And that. . .  is just from an individuals perspective. 

It's quite a word isn't it? Perspective. A point of view, either from one's eye or from one's mental-eye. With perspective, we can look at ourselves in a new light, we can shed the light on faults and shun our benefits, or else vice-versa. Throughout the growth of human civilisation we've gone through a wee bit of a transition. We've grown from individuals to tribes, from tribes to villages, from villages to districts, from districts to civilisations. Nowadays, we're even facing the breaking down of the walls between countries; meta-physical of course, with the advent and growth of communication. Looking at the recent past we can see that some societies were closed off and isolated; thus ignorant. In said societies there would be but a learned man who would have the entire society in the centre of his greedy palms. Without comparing their ideas to others people wouldn't be able to improve upon themselves on a mental level, unable to go through micro-evolution, again, metaphysically speaking. In those days travel = a new world = a higher education. It was that simple.

Today technology has brought us even closer to people across the freaking world than 5 years ago. And if ideologies and bits of information are being sent to and fro in modern society, aren't we all that closer to attaining a higher level of enlightenment than before? With all these different perspectives we should all be fucking philosophers and discussing the meaning of life over tea.

Well, let me explain why; amidst the populous we still have people who choose to be ignorant, people who can't adapt to society and wish to remain in their own little world of ideas while still insisting to be part of an evolving world, people who are not fully educated in schools. For example, the teenager that thinks she's bulletproof and meets up with alexwang73. The raging, middle-aged men who troll youtube insulting people who are different to them just because that's how their dad acted. Muslims, homosexuals, drug-users, African Americans, you name it, we still have people who hate them blindly for being different. We have people who dub an alternate persona and assume to be smarter and more educated than the others around them and then start spewing drivel on things they know nothing about. 

The eon of the Internet is a double-edged sword. Why? It's so vast that people can lock themselves in their own little corner of security, where they won't be judged or ridiculed, engulfing them in 'truths' that in the end are nothing more than the walls of a Haven. A Haven of retardation. This is all something I've been contemplating and studying very heavily recently, but I feel it's ready to be unleashed to you all :3

So go forth, learn, and teach me something too.

Do you phail?

Do you suck? Do you fail at most anything and just about everything you attempt to do? Is your IQ equal to or below that of a fornicating baboon? 

Terrific. 

Well, after that little ego-slap, you'll be glad to know that you are really what makes today's modern society what it is; You are what makes the world go round. You are what gives teachers a job and hence the mere name for their otherwise non-existent occupation. You are the economy's little LEGO block. Without you, life would suck, we'd all be living in a communist society, and America would have their current president driving the nation's kids to school or picking up trash from the citizens' sidewalk. 

You see, the truth about today is brutal, yet fulfilling. It makes you hate life, but makes you feel all the more significant. Just imagine a world in which everyone had a brilliant mind. Imagine EVERYBODY had a mind as great as that of A. Einstein or S. Hawking. Nobody would settle for any occupation lesser than that upholding the title of a 'profession' (Unless of course you're a Spartan).  Nobody would ever settle for anything less than the grade of a lawyer, doctor, architect, physicist, surgeon, IT analyst, Golden Rock idol or Hollywood superstar. Thing is, in the end, all these occupations require the involvement of the ignorant, dense, empty-headed, clueless, thick and seemingly insignificant 'nobodies' (of course - to the sophisticated class of person such as the aforementioned lot) - More commonly known as 'the average Joe' or 'the middle-class'. Of course, YOU, who is reading this, are below this. You are the 'low-class'. You are society's condom; Works MOST of the time, able to purchase in bulk, hated by most everyone, prevents unwanted things from happening, cheap, and keeps everybody happy in the end once you do your job as others see fit -But most of all - You represent that tiny little element of  fear which everybody dismisses, but see significant enough to keep and not complain about no matter how uncomfortable they may be. 

If everybody sports a profession of the previously mentioned calibre - who will be left to collect our trash every morning? To drive our children to our sickeningly expensive colleges? To sweep our streets? To aggressively chop our trees down for all the scented paper we will be using for our fancy documents and invoices? To print and deliver our morning paper? Who will be left to work in the now vacant sweat-shops and stitch our soccer balls together for a quarter a day? Who will be there to milk our cows and slaughter our bulls? Who will be there to print those now obviously nonexistent 'Made in China' labels on our now no longer existing massively produced consumer goods? Heck - Who will be our new China? 

Nobody. 

This is why you are so priceless. This is why you are such a commodity. This is why the world needs you.

I love you, stupid people - You give me shit to write about. 

Walter Plinge

形容词

August 1st 2025
My fairest of greetings to the curious eyes of the reader, I'm Eikon and I’m an International Private Investigator. I was born and bred in London on the fifth of the eleventh, nineteen-eighty-four and I’ve just hit forty. It is normal for a man to start doubting his purpose in life when he’s hit the infamous fourth decade. It is abnormal to feel fulfilled to the point where I could be killed by a speeding bullet through the nasal cavity and not have any regrets surface until I hit the ground. The experiences I’ve had with my dear companion have proven to be unparalleled by any such event ever witnessed on this planet. I’ve witnessed the dawn and dusk of an era, arguably the final era that will grace us.
***
Said era had already commenced before I even realised. I was at a coffee shop stalking and eavesdropping on a man, Matthias Yerig. His [ex] brother-in-law hired me under fear that Matthias had murdered his wife. Matthias was sitting at a table which was off-centre to the café; a stern, watchful look was draped over his face, with 3 days growth of facial hair masking the lower regions of his face; in contrast to the shining baldness of his dome. He sported an ill-fitting, mud-brown tee shirt and grimy white three-quarters. He stood at around 6’6’’, rather well built too. Definitely not someone I’d want suspecting me. I assumed I was safe nonetheless, seated at the corner of the shop near the hall which led to the restrooms. 
I sat there at my seat and drew out a cigarette from a tin I was carrying, using my silver Zippo lighter I set the rolled up tobacco alight and drew a few puffs. At that moment a man stood over Matthias’ table. The man was around 6 feet and had shoulder length, snow white hair. His complexion was fair as was his air. He wore a hooded, leather coat that was tied by a pair of belts at his midriff; the coat then flowed down to his knees but was also parted just above his buttocks. His pants were black with a tinge of green, presumably denim. He sat himself down across of Matthias with his head hanging. Matthias seemed to be interrogating the man for his purpose there. The man callously raised his head and gave Matthias a deep stare. They both rose and walked over to the restrooms. As they approached I stared at this mystery man’s face, he had a cute, youthful face; his eyes… his eyes were extraordinary; one was a deep emerald green, but the other… the other was a simple pupil; two red lines crossed down his face, one on either side of the pupil, it couldn’t have been a tattoo for the scarlet lines were marked even on the white of his eye. 
Flustered from the sight I looked back down to my news paper, my fedora hiding my eyes from those of the two men. As I heard their footsteps fade out a little I put out my cigarette and rose, making my way to the men’s bath-room. I saw them both enter the bathroom, yet upon entering, I saw that the stall doors were wide open and the window was gated shut; not a trace of the mysterious man or my suspect, all I found was a note on the bathroom mirror which stated “The Chitan is gone, you’re welcome. J ” That little yellow paper was a tiny entity that left me stupefied, that little; mustard-yellow sticky note was as dreadful to me as the Atomic Bomb was to Oppenheimer. Thousands upon thousands of questions rioted in my head. For a man to wander off into a room, nowhere to hide and leave a lone note talking of something as dreaded and long-thought gone as a Chitan… could  this man actually be insinuating the Chitan are still lurking amongst us?
***
I made my way home to my flat and typed out a report on my typewriter. I had a computer, a Macbook pro to be exact; however I preferred having my official documents typed through a type-writer. Ne’er had the typewriter shown any tangible benefits bar the fact it simply soothed my nerves; from the sound of the aged keys to the font and ink marked on the paper. The clock ticked and the report had come and gone, I was restless in my apartment. The questions still remained dormant in my mind. The fear of the Chitan I remember so vividly from my adolescence has resur-faced. Rising up I grabbed my mobile phone, lighter and cigarette tin and pocketed them, I draped myself in my trench coat and fedora, grabbed the keys and walked out of my flat. Trying to displace the thoughts in my head I analysed the hallways of the flat, the staircases and windows. I searched for any changes, something interesting to replace the questions in my mind but the search was for naught. The same dated, green wallpaper; the same, puffy maroon carpet; the same, chipped, white wooden windows, nothing had changed at the block of studio flats that housed the litter of John and Jane Does. I lit up a fag and paced along the town Park. Dew covered the park, streets and buildings and a cold, distinct chill was in the air; interrupted only by the faint warmth of the street lamps; weather which was typical London.
It was at the Park that I had my restless questions put; finally, to rest. It was at the park that night where I first wet myself since I was an infant. I walked by an elder Englishman who was walking his parson Russell terrier when this timid elder asked me for the time. He started talking to me, he started droning on how he had to fetch a taxicab for his bones were brittle and his legs were fragile; not sturdy enough to carry his body back to his abode. As far as honesty goes, this is right up there with “I did not have sexual relations with this woman.”
Upon ending his speech the old bastard gripped my arm. Tightly, this was the level of tightness that would be compared to the jaws of a lion enclosed on the spine of a wildebeest. The old man’s humble veneer had dissipated and his visage was now home to an animalistic sense of hunger. His skin darkened and seemed to get firmer, his pupils dilated and his eye turned yellow, rows of sharp, gritty teeth burst out of his vein-lined purple gums. He whispered to me words that sounded like a dozen voices speaking in unison, adding a very certain effect to the otherwise weak words. “You won’t see the sun rise, kid.”, That’s what the sod told me. I expected to feel pain; I expected to die. However, all I felt was the realisation that my crotch was very warm and very damp. Opening my eyes showed the mystery man gripping the my attacker’s scaly and muscled arm; I saw my saviour held a short, black blade held high above the old man’s head, seeming to embrace the white purity of the Moon. Swiftly the arm of my saviour came down, and the black blood of my attacker was momentarily suspended in air, I caught a glimpse of the creatures head detached from its shoulders, flesh twisting and rippling in the night air; and then I saw the entire entity of this, now dead, being turn to a fine, black sand.
My jaw dropped, the nameless sir sheathed his blade and sniffed. For a while, I felt that time had stopped. In my career I had already seen a lot of gore and had my fair share of shocks but it all paled in comparison to this moment.
“Smells like someone had a little accident!” Said the man in a cheerful, friendly tone; the kind of tone you’d expect to hear from a teasing friend, not the man that just killed a ravenous Chitan. 
Mustering up the nerves to speak, I timidly uttered a ‘thank-you’. The man introduced himself,
“My name is Anima, Anima Gigae to be exact. Would you care to share your name?” He asked, while a humble smile rested upon his face.
“Eikon, I’m a Private Investigator.”
“So I’ve seen.” Exclaimed Anima, “As you may have noticed, I’m not exactly what you’d call a vigi-lante. Nor am I an eccentric person. I’m more of an Angel/second coming of Christ kind of deal. I figured that’s a large detail about me so I’d get it out in the open right now.”
Upon hearing these words, alarms sounded in my head. I instantly labelled my saviour as a tenant at an asylum. At that moment he directed my attention to his eyes, I felt my body go numb; my mind go soft and my vision blur. I awoke on the couch at my flat, my mobile phone on the low, oak coffee table with another of this psychopath’s yellow notes beside it. The note stated that I should call upon waking; for this he left his number on the note

“3567931277”I mumbled. I shrugged the thought off and heaved myself to bed.

 

[/end session;; ‘proofread1’]

~

 

JAMIE: Good morning, I can’t assume when you’ve read this, but I can tell you that I wrote this on the sixth of the eight, 2008 at 2:03 am.

 

/end note

Art, Porn and You! *Text::NSFW*

Multiple times in the recent past, people have seen some of my nude art paintings and felt 'scandalised' saying it was 'porn'. Now, these were drawings of naked men and women in a dignified pose oftentimes covering up in order to experiment with poses. Yet they would've found the art to have been vulgar.

This isn't a rare occurrence for many artists and photographers. It seems that while we have changed from the victorian ages but society has trouble with the segregation of porn and nude art. It's undeniable we're still going through the transition of purifying our minds from perversity that plagued us all since the middle ages; but it's very possible that there are factors in the modern world  which oppresses the growth of modern society.

The Media; screwing us up since 1938

Watching television has become a daily and global commodity in second and first world countries, having the opinions and point of views of companies, politicians, individuals and communities to all those with a screen. It's not that television can't be an entertaining diversion for most, it's the materialistic views squeezed between what you're actually watching called adverts. Adverts are placed in the last dwindling moments of one's attention spans with the sole purpose of printing a message from the creator of the advert into the eyes of the viewer. Often enough adverts display an attractive young man or woman scantily dressed showing off the product which invokes the desire of the viewers search for happiness, thinking that the product will bring him a step closer to everlasting happiness. For example, Axe Body Spray adverts show a man who; upon spraying himself with the product, has bikini-clad women chasing after John Doe. Perhaps the woman with a double-zero size eating Nutritious bars as a dieting scheme, attracting the looks of men after she sampled said nutri-bar.

Basically, 99% of all television owners who buy into adverts should be models with more than 5 members of the opposite sex bangin' them blind while inadvertently becoming successful billionaires.

Porn is always created with the intention of satisfying a sexual need on shorthand notice when you're to poor to afford a hooker (and Lord knows morality isn't an affecting factor, since you're beating your meat to what is essentially the broken dreams of a young girl with, you know, tits). Porn is basically material that is objectifying women as a sexual tool. In contrast, nude art is about portraying the human body appropriately. Portraying emotions, humility, the roots of human nature and beauty but I'm not rambling about physical beauty but rather beauty of the human body, appreciation for ourselves as a race, a species. We differentiate porn from nude art with little to no hassle. Does the media in question show off the woman as a walking vagina, or as a person? If you see a drawing of a woman with her legs spread above her head, panties round her ankle, two or so fingers placed firmly at her crotch and a look in her eye that makes weakens your knees, it is safe to say that what you're looking at is Porn. Smut. Filth. Soot. That's the difference between being an art collector, and a virgin with 60 gigabytes-worth of lesbian spanking infernos on his computer.

Culturally, you'll find a varying definition of porn and nude art. In America, sex is grand on television, a commodity in the bedroom, kinky in your brain but a taboo in public. I mean, God forbid children see nipples! Holy crap nipples make me sick. Gah. [/sarcasm] In Europe, being topless is acceptable, I mean, most people have nipples right? Nipples. In Africa, there are more human tits hanging out than there are of the entire population of animals on the continent. Now in the Middle East, we've got strippers who show their wrist. Holy tap-dancing chipmunks that is hot. It's really heating up under the collar [belt] here. Mmm. Additionally, we have Japan (I'm not going to comment on the rest of Asia), who are either the biggest perverts on the planet, or very clean-minded. I have yet to find the molestation rates of the country, if they're high; they're perverts, if not; they are Part-time Eunuchs.

Pro-tip; if you felt a little naughty when reading this article, you might be a smut-loving asshole that watches television.