Christian Letters to Penthouse

Dear Penthouse,

I never thought I’d be writing you, but the other night I had dinner with a woman who is not my wife. After praising our Lord for His bounty, I asked her to please pass the salt. Our fingers accidentally touched, and the next thing I know she’s shoving the table clean with one sweep of her arm and throwing me down on it, taking my throbbing member into her mouth, and finishing me off like a ladle of gravy. I seek pence for my sins. Er, penance.

Race Bannon

Dear Penthouse,

I never believed this would happen to me, but last week I found myself trapped in a revolving door with a woman who is not my bride. As I sought to apologize for our predicament, our eyes met, and the Devil took us as we ripped off our clothes and pounded so hard I feared the glass would break, or at least dislodge the frame. The panes were streaked so thick with my seed that we could barely see the super when he arrived.

Errol Smith

Dear Penthouse,

I live a righteous life in expectation of the Kingdom that awaits, but while visiting the Safeway on behalf of my ailing wife, I squeezed the cantaloupes on sale in the produce section, and they caused in me such a prurient arousal that I feared my manhood would burst through my trousers. Which it did, attracting the lascivious attention of the lovely young stocker across the aisle. She peeled me like a banana, and I squirted like a grapefruit.

Jack Lemon

Dear Penthouse,

Despite the stricture against lusting in my heart, I have fantasies of Nancy Grace and Jeanine Pirro punishing me. I dream that they’ll catch me being naughty, strip me down to my birthday suit, then slap my private parts with switches as they chant my transgressions. When I can no longer contain my shame, I blow a load so powerful that it takes two washer cycles to reclaim my bedsheets.

Stain Withheld

Dear Penthouse,

I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but while on an international business trip, I found myself alone in my hotel room late at night when two maids walked in, neither of whom is married to me. While I would never violate the sacred bonds of matrimony, I couldn’t stop them from jumping onto the bed where I was resting, dropping their panties, and showering me with their golden streams. May God forgive me, but I felt like I was being baptized.

John Barron


Not even a fraction of a boner.

Pence is Colonel Manstrong from the Venture Brothers.

Speaking of puking emoji, just upgraded the site to https, which, for starters, logs everybody out. But when your ISP starts spying on you (okay, continues), our Naughty Content won’t be sniffable.

I’m migrating to protonmail and signal – things I should have done a long time ago. I guess waking people up, making them think they’re losing something they didn’t have but maybe kind of almost did, is good.

Oh, and right parrot if we’re swiping.

@JNOV: Must be twenty years ago that I wrote a column for the local alt-rag explaining What the Internet Knows About You. The details have changed — and grown — but it remains the case that the Internet only works by knowing who you are, to some degree.

Besides, URLs remain “plain text”. I think about that (and much else) when I’m coding sites that include confidential information.

The latest Geek Chatter is over how well VPNs actually work. Answer: Depends. A commercial VPN is just substituting for your ISP, and some are more trustworthy than others.

@nojo: Yup about VPNs. I watch Mr. Robot.

@JNOV: And the NSA apparently cracked TOR, although I’m uncertain about the state of play there.

@nojo: Yeah – I don’t like the Tor browser. Maybe it’s better now, but it was super clunky and slow, bouncing off planets and some such.

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