The Death of a Newborn Shirt

Clean ClothesThe world is full of disgusting and awful things. Turn on the TV for a few seconds and you’ll see what I mean. I live in a relatively safe part of the world. I don’t have to deal with war, and murder. I don’t have to go out on the streets and sell blowjobs to buy crack, because I am so addicted to crack. Don’t gotta decide between killing a baby for a roll of bread. I was lucky to be raised in a middle class family. I don’t have to witness terrible things. I don’t have to decide between to impossibly evil things to survive. I was safe, right? Wrong. I did something terrible the other day… I destroyed something, something beautiful. It was a gift to the world really, a beacon of light just brought into the world. It had its whole life ahead of it. My girlfriend gave it to me as a christmas present. It was a beautiful white undershirt. It’s dead now, thanks to me… and all I could do is laugh hysterically as my girlfriend kicked me.

Lack of sleep can do amazing things to the body. I hadn’t really figured this out until recently, when I had come back from my parents house in the states to Japan. My lovely girlfriend picked me up at the airport and elected to keep me awake until a decent sleeping hour so I could get over jet lag a little easier. Oh, how nice of her! When we got to my place we exchanged Christmas gifts since I had been away for a while. She got me exactly what I wanted, two very white, beautiful, fresh undershirts to replace the two I had been wearing every day for six months without washing. She wanted me to take off that shirt, I also noticed the smell and was willing to part with it…our dating world was in alignment. I tried it on immediately for my fruitful and hopefully very long relationship with this white wonder. Fit perfectly, smelled great, all was right.

It was getting later in the evening, and it was getting time for dinner. Just before this my girlfriend had woke my desperate for sleep body up from an ill-advised nap that left me in a battle between the dream world and reality. Basically, I was a mess. My girlfriend, being the sweet Japanese spy that she is, sees how deliriously tired I am and says she will go out and pick up some food for us. Hurray! Not only did she do that, she also buys us ice cream! Double hurray!

I scarf down the delicious convenience store food and soon have my eyes on the ice cream bar she had bought me. Boy, did it look good. A hard chocolate center, covered in chocolate ice cream, covered by a hard candy shell. What more could you ask for? Triple chocolate explosion. I don’t remember anything about the actual eating of the chocolate bar. All I know is that I killed it. In a haze, much like a rabid raccoon, I absorbed the chocolate bar, not taking any care to my surroundings. I was blacked out for approximately one minute and thirty-seven seconds.

I came to. My girlfriend was standing over me in shock. She was looking at something. Not at my face…she was looking lower. Around my chest. I look down. This is what I see.
The Chocolate Stain
Yes, in a tired haze, while unconsciously enjoying delicious ice cream, I also managed to destroyed the beautiful new white undershirt that my girlfriend got me for Christmas. I looked at her, and the shirt, then back and her, and couldn’t stop laughing. Not a normal laugh, but the laugh of an insane sleep-deprived carny.

What a waste of life. That shirt can now never fulfill it’s purpose on this earth because of me. I basically killed a fetus. Don’t hate me. My girlfriend certainly does. At least it smells good.

Here’s to a better future for the world, where these things no longer happen.

-Maxim

We Are Porn People

Most people eventually garner some sort of interest in their parents past、although they aren’t always willing to reveal it willingly. Hell, some people literally have to point a gun to their folk’s heads just to get anything out of them. My dad just happens to be one of those people. It took a good 24 years, but I finally thought I had a general idea of what my dad accomplished in his life. I was satisfied. I didn’t think I had to fish anymore. Little did I know that when I came home for Christmas, I would find out a family secret hidden from us children. Let me be the first to say, it was probably for the better.

If you have read this blog in the past, you may know that I’ve had some interesting sexual experiences in my life. Some completely volunteered, some forced down upon me. Well, it appears that this isn’t just something that I’ve been lucky (unlucky?) enough to experience…this shit runs in the family. We are porn people. A simple bunch, really…but inextricably locked to the world of porn. Why? Listen to this.

So I was wondering aimlessly around my house, mindin’ my own business when I found myself in my parent’s room. My dad, as usual, was relaxing in his chair, simultaneously writing furiously, and switching between watching the oldest movies in existence, and a local horse racing channel. On my parents dresser, I noticed a book. Not a particularly strange sight, as we have a thousand books in places all over the house, but I picked it up and looked at it absent-mindedly anyway.

The book was called ‘Isle of Lust’ by Levi Sanford. On the cover was a woman facing away, hugging a man, and wearing a dress that gave us a very detailed look at her rear end. The tagline was: “With sultry sirens in the sun, every day is SIN-day”. This book was old too, the pages had turned that ting of orange like all books over 30 years old did. The price was proudly displayed right next to the title, 60 cents. “What is this shit?” I wondered, knowing that this wasn’t exactly the kind of books my parents read. “Hey, Dad? What is this smut book doing on your dresser?” I asked. “Oh, yeah…I wrote that.” He responded, quite nonchalantly. “You wrote it? But who’s Levi Sanford?” I asked. “Yeah, that’s my pen name; I had a lot of back then. Wrote a bunch of soft-core smut novels.” An intense feeling of joy filled up my heart. All I could think after that was, “I am so reading this”.

After some pushing, I find out that my dad, looking for work writing after college, did freelance for this smut publishing firm. He could write anything he wanted with one condition, there had to have a sex scene every ten pages. Only ten!? Don’t worry, my dad assured me there was no penetration.

So how did my dad do? Here’s one of the many gems from Isle of Lust by Levi Sanford:

A cold shiver of dread and excitement swept over him and he found her lips.  They were soft and wet and half-parted allowing his darting tongue to enter.  Their teeth clicked as the soft crushing kiss turned into a thousand tiny bites till her could taste the sweetness of blood. Her body writhed in sensuous rhythm as she guided his hand to secret, sensitive spots, urging him to probe and dig, uttering short commands.

He could see her lips moving as though she were praying, but it wasn’t prayers that he heard. She was mouthing all sorts of foul obscenities as his hands and his body twisted and pressed her soft flesh.

I don’t know about you, but I already have a boner.

Oh, so you think Isle of Lust looks great? Check out some of these other titles by none other than my old man.

The Moonlighters by Gil Herbert: The shocking story of a small factory town that gave birth to a call-girl ring made up of the wives of the night-shift workers!!!

Ginny by Gil Herbert: An office girl with intentions…intentions less than honorable!

The Sin Travelers by Don Holliday: They wanted kicks… and they didn’t care how they got them!

If you want to get your hands on some of these vintage classics, head over to this great website, vintagesleaze.com, for all of your vintage sleaze needs! Yes, this is a real site, and yes, there are people who collect and sell this shit to people who think today’s smut isn’t enough… they need the granny smut.

So yes, it’s no wonder that my life has been lined with all the naughty and gross things in the world. It is in my DNA. We are porn people and I won’t deny it any longer! Why don’t you try asking your parents about their past? You may find out you’re a porn person too!

Have a great one!

Sincerely,

-Maxim

The Monster in St. Louis

St. Louis SkylineThere is something on the loose in St. Louis. Something terrible, something monstrous. The people of the city are blissfully ignorant of what lives among them. I’ve told the story I am about to tell you to many of my friends, and none of them believe me, but I know what I saw. It is real, I saw it, I saw it with my own two eyes. And I remember it vividly to this day.

When I was in middle school, my mom and I would often drive down to St. Louis to visit my grandma. I loved going because it was an incredibly long drive (about 1000 miles), and the time we spent in St. Louis got me out of school for weeks at a time. The way I remember it, St. Louis was a nice town. It had the gateway arch. The St. Louis Cardinals at famous Busch Stadium. It introduced me to American shopping malls as big as whole cities. It had this awesomely delicious chain called Steak and Shake, and this awesome frozen custard place called Ted Drewes. It had frickin’ IHOP (We don’t have those in NY)! They also got tornadoes. I love tornadoes! One day there was a tornado watch and it was so exciting, oh my god! St. Louis basically had everything I could ever want.

Except this…
Ahh! Real Monsters!
One day we were in the car riding down a normal residential street on a beautiful day. All the houses had nice front yards with nicely trimmed grass, trees everywhere. The quintessential American street. I was in the back of the car looking out the window; that’s when I saw it. There was a group of three or four people standing on a lawn. They were gathered around something. At first I couldn’t make out what it was… the shape too unnatural to be real. Maybe I was seeing something that wasn’t there. I rubbed my eyes in hopes that it would go away, but no, it was real. It was a person, if you could call it that. More beast than man really. So, what was so monstrous about this thing? Well, it was a guy showing off his massive two foot long erect penis.

This thing was gargantuan. I cannot stress this enough. How a person could survive with such a large penis plagues me to this day. There is was no doubt in my mind that it was a penis. I have to admit, I was in a moving vehicle, and this guy was about 20 feet away from me. Many of my friends say it could have been anything, a broom, or a bottle. But that can’t be true. Now although I was only eleven or twelve, I knew what an erect penis looked like, probably more than the average eleven or twelve year old. It wasn’t just straight like a stick, it was curved slightly upwards, like a dick! Totally different. And this guy wasn’t just standing still with his penis. He was showing it off in super pose style, with his hands moving around it in a way that seemed to be giving it power.

As soon as I saw it, it was gone. We drove away. I never told my mom. She was in the car but I didn’t tell her. What was I supposed to say? “Hey Mom, there’s a monster penis over there!” Totally unnecessary. Well, she knows now anyway.

So what do you think? Real, or did I see something that wasn’t there? All I know is it’s something I will never forget.

This is fake, but it was kind of like this.

Good day, and good penis.

-Maxim

The Barkeep with the Javilin Tongue

Cow TongueDo you remember when you first turned 21? That year may not have any special meaning for some of you, but in the states, it’s just about the most special birthday you’ve got. It is the day you are legally allowed to purchase alcohol. I remember this important time of my life very well. Well actually, I don’t remember it well at all. I was fucking wasted for most of it. But I do remember one specific incident. This incident was so shocking, so traumatizing, that it shot me out of my drunken stupor and made my brain remember. Oh crap, thinking about, this actually happened when I was 22, but shit man, I still wasn’t over turning 21! That bit is totally relevant!

Anyway, It was the summer of 2009, fresh out of college and not caring about anything future related, except absolutely fuck-tard wasted tonight and every night. I was out with my friend on a random weekday. We were drinking margaritas when my friend had the brilliant idea of going to the local dive bar. I hated that bar, but being pretty wasted already off of cheap Mexican tequila, I agreed happily. When we got to the bar it was pretty dead, but you know, it was a dive bar, and it was some random ass weekday. Couldn’t really blame the shithole. My friend was friends with everyone who had ever entered this bar, including the bartender, so we sat at the bar and started talking to her.

Let me describe this bartender to you for a moment. She wasn’t a thin woman. No, actually she was pretty large. She was also in her 50’s and married. Oh, and dreadfully ugly.

Continuing on, my friend was off playing pool or something and I was left with barkeep. She had made up some amazing concoction she labeled simply “the shit” and she was offering them for free, since she was pretty drunk herself of the incredibly alcoholic monstrosities.

So we were talking, and she was telling me about her kids, and about her long life… and she was listening to me, a recent college graduate blabbering on about being young and stupid. Her eyes grow larger after each passing minute.At the time I didn’t know what this meant, probably because she was jealous of my youth. But seriously, I was too drunk to possibly be making any sense to her, what could she of possibly found so interesting? Well, I soon found out.

How what I am about to say came to be I cannot say, but before I knew it this bartenders tongue was in my mouth. Now let me make this clear, I was not fighting this. Probably because I couldn’t. This tongue she had, guys, it was like a javelin. Rock hard, pointy edged, this thing could pierce armor. She had this in my mouth, exploring, cutting my gums. It was the most incredible and most horrible thing I have ever experienced. She was a fat, married, ugly 50 year old, with a weaponized tongue, and I made out with her.
Female tounges.
Being completely deadbeat wasted, I was pretty pleased with myself right after it ended. My friend even came over to congratulate me. However, the next day the realization of what I did came over me, and a sort of a sick feeling came over my body… like I had been raped. Maybe I had been, maybe I hadn’t, but it definitely wasn’t a fine moment in the life of Maxim.

So anyway, yeah. Nothing else to say. Enjoy that.

-Maxim

My Kids Like to Torture Pets Too

TMNTLast time on Maxim’s Madness we discussed my displeasure with how my students treated bugs. Throwing them like toys, ripping off their legs and presenting them to me as presents; great habits to allow a child to develop. Well, it doesn’t stop there. Despite the knowledge that these kids are sadistic, their teachers allow them to keep scores of pets, and task them to take care of them. We all had some sort of class pet growing up, sure, but I think these kids have you beat. Why you ask? It’s all solved by a little count.

Currently we have:
Two rabbits
A rooster
Not one, Not two, not three, not four, but FIVE turtles
A praying mantis

Can you believe it? What kind of crazy fucked in the head teacher would allow a group of kids so many pets? It blows my mind. Now you’re probably thinking, well, they can’t be that bad…at least they’re alive, right? Wrong. I present to you my evidence.

Turtles be fucked

First the turtles. Our kids always have at least one turtle. There are turtles appearing and disappearing and reappearing all the time. On one faithful day a couple of months ago, the kids found a very large turtle next to a river that runs next to us. Of course, the kids wanted to keep it as a pet, and from some inspiration from hell, the teachers agreed. Now this was a big fucking turtle. I mean, on par with some of the biggest turtles I had ever seen. I mean I’ve seen bigger in like an aquarium or something, but this is the wild! Those aquarium turtles don’t actually exist. Anyway, so imagine your laptop that was a turtle… maybe a little bit taller…thicker… that’s the turtle. It was a BIG turtle! So the teachers agreed to keep the it…only problem? Where the fuck they gonna keep a big fucking huge turtle? The usual place we keep turtles is a slightly larger than average bucket (no joke). So the teachers decided to put the big ass turtle in the bucket the size of the turtle. The kids loved it. Seeing the the turtle struggle to get out. Never being able to. Awesome. Kids laughter. Precious. Big turtle. Fun. Oh yeah, innocence. That turtle died in two weeks. They liked it enough to dig it a grave at least… what the fuck.

It’s not like they treat their normal sized turtles any better. Yeah, instead of one big turtle taking up all the room in the bucket, they put five in there. No rocks to lay on, nothing. The kids job is to change the water everyday and feed them, but in the process they have to remove the turtles from their bucket. So in the meantime they run around with the turtles like they are superturtles. Also when they finally put them back in their bucket they set aside a couple of minutes to shake up their water bucket to help the with turtle earthquake training (I guess?). Again, these aren’t the same kids day in and day out. Different kids have to clean the bucket each week. This is a be mean to animals epidemic. I need to kick the kids heads in one of these days.

Praying mantis death tribunal

Here’s a shorter, yet more direct story about our praying mantis. I have less experience with the torture these kids gave this poor guy, though I do know two important facts. First, the fairly large praying mantis is being kept in an old pencil case. Most people wold stop here and be like, “okay, that’s sad”, but it doesn’t stop. It actually gets worse. Second, the teacher had a meeting with the class to tell them that the school had run out of food for the mantis, and at this rate it probably die from starvation if nothing was done. Being the classes pet, she asked for some of the kids opinions, so they could have a vote on what to do. Here were the three main sides:

1. “I don’t care, I want it”
2. “Put another one in so it can die with a friend”
And the minority opinion 3. “We should let it go”

In the end, the class was unable to come to a consensus and the bug stayed where it was.
Awesome Praying Mantis
Okay….JESUS MOTHERFUCKING CHRIST! Am I some sort of liberal animal loving freak? Am I weird? Tell me! Is the whole world mad?!?!

I’m glad I vented all of that out. Sorry it took two whole posts to do it!

My Kids Like to Torture Bugs

Magnifying Glass MurderI don’t usually write rapid reactions to things that happened to me today, or even yesterday on Maxim’s Madness. I let them fester. I write careful satire and funny observations, constantly rereading and editing to see what lies or fibs I can add to my stories to make them better. Not lies, but…you know what I mean. Well anyway, today I am going to make an exception. I cannot let what happened to me today go untold, and I need to say this while it’s fresh. There is a tragedy of epic proportions going on in Japan and no ones seems to want to talk about it. I alluded to it a couple of months ago, but didn’t go too in depth. Here comes the rant.

Little fucking kindergartners in Japan are fuckin’ sadist freaks. There, I said it. Their teachers don’t do anything to stop then either. The daily torturing of animals I witness is just heartbreaking. Of course back in the day you always had that one kid in your class who liked to collect bugs, or burn ants with a magnifying glass, whatever, It was one kid. Well, imagine that kid times how ever many kintergarten kids there are in Japan. No bullshit.

The following events all took place within five minutes of each other.

As soon as I get to work today I have a young girl kindly inform me that they had found… something. Actually she said a Japanese word, “mimizu”, but I had no idea what that was. She kindly pointed me to where the action was and I went to investigate. I soon found out what “mimuzu” was, earthworms. They had found a bunch of earthworms after digging in some flowerbeds. Well, they were flowerbeds… yeah. As soon as I saw the worms the kids detected my distaste for them immediately. I did not want to be near those worms. I hate worms. One girl came in close to show me what she had found and I sort of backed off and told her “I see it fine from here. Very good!”. That wasn’t enough, she wanted me to hold it… or something. She came closer, I backed away. Big mistake. It suddenly became a game of “Let’s try and get Maxim to touch the worm”. Seconds later I was running across the field with 10 screaming kindergarteners running after me with worms. They won in the end. At least they were content with only pressing it against my clothes a bunch of times, never my skin. They then proceeded to take the worms and feed them to the birds. Poor worms… Next incident.

A minute later I get sucked into a giant game of tag. That’s usual enough. While in persuit of one particularly slimey child, I felt something hit me in the back. It didn’t hurt or anything, but obviously as a teacher I don’t take kidnly to having stuff being thrown at me. I turned around and found the laughing culprit right behind me. He quickly scoured to pick up what he threw at me, and threw it at me again. He missed, but this time I got a good look at what he was throwing at me. It was a fairly large grasshopper, fighting desperatly to get out of the demon child’s clutches. Horrified, I yelled at the kid that you shouldn’t throw a living thing like a toy, and to think about how the grasshopper feels. He responded to that by picking it up again and throwing it at his friend, who then picked it up and threw it back. I pleaded with the boys to let the poor soul go, but they said nothing and ran off with it. No idea what happened to the thing… probably dead. Next incident.

Literally the second after they ran off, the same girl who had been chasing me with worms came back to present me with a smaller grasshopper she had found. Having just been through a much worse ordeal, and with the grasshopper seemed to be in decent enough shape (living), I congratulated her, but also told her her I would be happy if she let it go. She did, to my surprise. However, soon after she put it down she ran back to me laughing, “Max, look!!!! It’s the grasshoppers leg! I let it go but I ripped it off too! HAHAHAHA”. I could see the grasshopper where she put it down… struggling to jump out of the busy field. The only thing I could think of was whether it was appropriate to put it out of its misery.

I am not exaggerating when I say this happened it the span of five minutes. It really did. It was horrible. They aren’t doing anything technically wrong, they are actually encouraged to go out and find bugs. Why are they so sadistic? This is not even the end of it, either. The kids also allowed to keep pets… we have eight. I’ll save their stories for another day.

In the meantime I will be thinking of ways to punish my kids for torturing little critters… I may need some help since the only thing I can think of is torturing them in return. Sigh…

Until next time,

-Maxim
Help Us!

Culty Kyushu

Kyushu MapI had a couple of three day weekends over the past month and I decided to take advantage and go on a nice three day and two night vacation. The destination? Kyushu, one of the four major Japanese islands. Since coming to Japan I have only visited two of the these islands, Honshu and Shikoku, and to eager to discover some new places. So how was my trip? Well, the easiest way to describe it would be to say… it was very culty. That’s right culty. It would be easy for the untrained eye to walk across this island and not see anything particularly out of the normal other than the usual Japanese idiosyncrasies. However, what I witnessed in my three days traveling around this large island was frightening to say the least.
Fukuoka Food Stands
The first five minutes after arriving were normal enough, me and my travel companion had to kill time between our train arrival and our bus departure in Fukuoka, the biggest city on the island. We decided to walk around and search for some illusive street venders which were supposedly famous in the city. We couldn’t find one. Very curious indeed. How could a city famous for its food on the street, have none anywhere to be found? Cult activity? Hmmm.

On our way back from our long walk we stumbled upon a large Buddhist temple. The temple seemed pretty popular since loads of cars were going in and out. They even needed a guy directing traffic outside. Thinking it was possibly some famous attraction in the city, we went inside the walls. It took us ten seconds to figure out something wasn’t quite right. This was no temple, it was more like an office complex, with weird symbols gilded on every orifice. A sudden feeling of dread took over me. Flash backs to my own cult experience filled my mind as we ran past the guard to get out of there. Did I mention that the cult I had joined was founded in Kyushu? Did I tell you that? It’s kind of important. Anyway, my friend informed me that since we had entered the grounds, the tracker implants that my cult had injected into me unknowingly, had probably triggered alarms at the main cult base, and that they would be after me. Crap! In the end, no secret cult agents came pouring out to get us, but the idea did keep us on edge for the rest of the vacation.
Saigondenji Temple
The next incident came during our second day of vacation. We were chillin’ around an active volcano called Mount Aso. We were walking around the area when we came across the ruins of an old Buddhist temple. My friend, being a real working archeologist, did a quick survey of the area. After about a minute he was able to determine the cause of its destruction, fire. We couldn’t say when it burned down but it was fairly being that all the trees and were burnt to shit and the ground all the metal around was warped to all hell. We thought about the nature of fire for a second. Fire…fire…fire… We looked at each other and quickly came to the same realization. Fire? Burned down Buddhist temple? Those dirty cults, they struck again. You could feel the sacrilege in the air, the hatred, the suffering. Needless to say we got out of there real quick.
Ken-chans
Next incident. On that same day we set up camp in a town called Takachiho. The area is famous for its place in Japanese mythology. We found a hotel quickly enough, and even did a little sightseeing before we decided to get unhealthily drunk. We had eyed an interesting looking bar/restaurant (called an “izakaya” in Japan) when we arrived, so we decided to go honor the funny looking establishment with our patronage. We went inside and was greeted by a man wearing large glasses with perfectly circular lenses, and a greased back 1950’s style yakuza haircut. He directed us to the counter. The very large barkeep, and owner of the place, was quick to inform us that he was a karate and boxing master, and to look at the photos of himself plastered all over the restaurant. Most of the photos were idealized pictures of the bartender in a sea of clouds wearing traditional garb and inspirational messages written in large fonts. Not only was this picture all over the bar, but on three or four large flags waving in the wind outside. It was obvious at that point that we had walked right into a cult base. We finished our food and drink and got out as soon as we could, not after cautiously accepting a clear unknown drink from the man which may have been brainwashing potion.

We had planned to get out of the cult populated town early the next morning, but the bus we planned to get on was conveniently full. We had to wait for another five hours for the next one. We decided we probably shouldn’t stay in one place to avoid detection, so we began circling around the area, not frequenting one place for more than a half hour. However, when we stopped to eat in a place we chose for its lack of customers, as soon as we sat down a group of young people came in. They numbered seven and by the looks of them (skinny jeans, bandanas, and long hair) they were trouble. For a while none of them did anything suspicious and we were beginning to feel a little bit at ease, but then came the look. A girl, the obvious leader of the group, sporting wild long black hair and fake eyelashes, turned her head and began to stare at us, mouth slightly opened, eyes wide. I looked at her back, but she continued to stare. A staring contest ensued. I nodded at her, a “ok, please stop staring at me now” sort of desperate nod. She nodded back, but she wouldn’t look away, mouth still slightly open. She was salivating. My heart beat faster. I was scared. I was no match for her mouth derived powers. We quickly ran out of the store, but the cult outriders were soon on our backs. They chased us around until we begged a passing bus to let us on. We never would of gotten away if we hadn’t suddenly became parkour masters. Driving away we could see them dissolve into cultish mist through the back window.

The time finally came for our bus, and we were glad to leave. It was the scariest experience of our lives. How could an island as big as Kyushu be so densly populated by crazy cultists who want to burn us at the stake? Needless to say, I’m back safe in the normal Japan, where you find only the occasional cult. It’s a good feeling to be alive after a brush of death. Won’t be going back anytime soon…unless… unless they tracked my movements back here. Woah. I forgot about the tracker. Crap, better hide.

See you next time?

-Maxim

Ken-chan
Ken-chans worker