Bitter Love 1999
sex advice from Dan Bitter
years of writing this column, I feel that the salutation "Hey
Breeder" is due for retirement. It just doesn't have the shock value it
once had. But instead of dropping the salutation altogether, like some alternative sex advice columnists,
I'll let you address me however you want ÷ and I'll address you however I want.
dumbfounded to learn that, as of this year, dogs are not welcome at Burning
Man, and that anyone who dares bring one will be charged an additional
admission fee. Why am I writing to a sex-advice column about this? Because my
situation is unique. You see, my so-fine canine is my sex partner!
Now, I know
what you're thinking, but really, it's not like that. My poochie-cooch and I
have a very tender, loving, mutually-satisfying relationship, that happens to
go a little further than your average pet/master dynamic. I just can't bear to
leave my little "golden reliever" for six whole days (and nights!)
but forking over another $100 feels like I'm getting the shaft. What should I
You are one
sick puppy. Don't get me wrong ÷ I'll be the first to admit that I've had my
share of gravy train on my dick. But there's a line between adolescent
experimentation and all-out bestial perversion, and buddy, you just crossed it.
I mean really, a dog may be a man's best friend, and it may be okay to fuck
your best friend (if you get him drunk enough), but the equation isn't exactly
transitive, if you get my drift.
dog-eat-dog world, my friend, not a dog-eat-man world, and not only is this
behavior frowned upon in the civilized world, it's not too cool at Burning Man
either. So I'd recommend leaving your cocksucker spaniel at home with a trusted
friend ÷ someone who won't take unfair advantage of the situation. And if you
insist on bringing her, you'll have to pay for your bitch like the rest of us.
single, female, 25-year-old professional in the Nevada area, and ever since the
"ranch" I was working at shut down, I've been out of a job. A friend
of mine suggested I'd get lots of business at Burning Man, but I'm not sure how
to go about it. Any advice?
Hey Desperate Whore:
all, you cheap fucking tart, there's no commerce allowed at Burning Man, and
that includes illegal commerce. But that doesn't stop the drug dealers, so why
should it stop you? That said, any city of 25,000 should have a red-light
district, and if Black Rock City has one, I'll bet it's on Venus, around 4:00
be a whole pork farm of cops this year though, so be discreet. If you're
paranoid of being arrested for selling your nasty body like so much fish 'n'
chips, you can always barter. Try making a big sign that says "Will Fuck
For Food." Or, if it's not food you need, but say, a big diamond ring or
whatever, you can trade sexual favors for just about anything. Then you're not really a hooker. You're just a smart
though, I should warn you that prostitution is a dangerous business ÷ it's a
jungle in the desert, and you need someone to take care of you, sugar. I'll
find you good customers, I'll give you a roof over your head and sexy street
clothes, and I'll protect your ass from the wackos and creeps. And because I'm
a fair kind of guy, I'll give you half of everything you make. So meet me at
the cafˇ in Central Camp at midnight, or else my friend Guido and his goons
will see to it that you never work again ÷ at least not without a paper bag
over your head.
Hey Felch Breath:
studly, washed-up rock star who's married to a bimbo TV actress with big
titties. At Burning Man a couple of years ago, we shot a porno of ourselves
going at it for a fewe hours. I thought it was clear that the movie was just
for our own personal enjoyment, but somehow it ended up on the Internet, and
now everyone who's anyone has seen it.
ashamed to show my face at Burning Man. Some of my friends and former bandmates
(I quit because they wouldn't leave me the fuck alone about the movie) told me
that most men wouldn't give a shit. Well, I suppose it wouldn't be a big deal
if it weren't for the fact that I am EXTREMELY WELL HUNG. I mean, like a horse.
So how can I have a normal conversation with people in the desert when they're
standing there, picturing my UNBELIEVABLY HUGE MEMBER underneath my shorts?
Please help me.
Get a life, loser. No wonder everyone hates you.
Confidential to Spencer T:
nutcase, I didn't get naked for you on the streets of New York and I'm not
going to get naked for you in the desert, either. I've told you a million times
that I was drunk that night and I don't even remember taking a bubble bath with
you. So leave me alone and find some other chumps for your stupid picture.
Got a question for Dan Bitter? Keep it to yourself, asshole!