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Highlights from the world of sex. Everywhere you go, it's Christmas. Actually, that's not true. I suppose that if one were to truly indulge the Grinch within, one could avoid retail shops, grocery stores, elevators, and any kind of mass media for the next eight days, and might end up almost insulated from most forms of yuletide sentiment. Maybe.  But you'll get no relief here, by gumdrop. I'm pumped with egg nog and gingerbread cookies, not to mention last week's amazing episode of South Park, where Santa gets shot down over Baghdad, taken prisoner and forced to endure electrical torture to his testicles (ol' St. Nick tries to be Zen at first, but eventually screams "I'm going to fucking kill you!" at his captor).You can breathe easy, though, as this story is pretty much bereft of anything that could possibly warm the cockles of your heart. In fact, you could say there's a complete lack of holiday spirit to be found anywhere in this hackneyed tale of testicular tepidity. It was an appropriately brisk, Christmas-y 73 degrees in Cape Town, South Africa (remember, it's not winter in the southern hemisphere, and also their water flushes in the wrong direction). Shoppers strolled through an upscale shopping center at a gentle pace, absorbing the holiday decorations which tastefully dotted the surroundings (umm, I'm waving the sarcasm flag pretty high here, folks, just for clarity's sake). But all was not well among the candy canes and wreaths. In a display featuring Santa's reindeer, two holiday globes dangled betwixt the legs of one of the faithful foals. Apparently, the creators of the display felt that a couple of horns weren't enough to accurately represent the masculinity of the ambiguously named animals (I mean, come on, Prancer fer chrissakes? Sheesh, get that one a gift certificate to Crate & Barrel and the soundtrack to the Broadway version of The Producers with Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane in it for Christmas… ), inserting a couple of Christmas ornaments where the creature's cajones would be.  And evidently high-fallutin' consumers weren't having any of it. After receiving multiple complaints, mall managers felt they had no choice but to castrate the beast in a horrible ritual, removing the well-hung ornaments with a callous yank. Jeez, why didn't they just stuff 'em in the reindeer's mouth like true mafia hitmen? Heartless bastards…A spokesman for the company which made the display showed no remorse for the offending orbs. While he admitted that "generally, we find it wiser to use sexless reindeer," he defended his creation by describing the balls as "anatomically correct for an animal of that size." He stopped short of marveling at the reindeer's aborted penis, which was to be made out of a Hickory Farms holiday beef stick. Silly sperm a new male contraceptive? For years now, I've been conducting my own research on sperm and male contraception. Under study has been my method of smoking pounds of dope in an effort to retard my sperm so much that it has the same chance of finding the egg (let alone penetrating it) of the lucky female subject as a Saudi national has of penetrating the security of an American airport unmolested.  I have to admit, so far it's gone pretty well. There aren't a whole generation of little Steves running around (and you can profusely thank whatever deity you beseech for that one), nor have I left a trail of aborted fetuses (feti?) in my wake. Of course, the trick is to not smoke so much that your libido sinks to the extent of preferring to watch Leah Remini look cute on The King of Queens over fucking your girlfriend. But if you're a naturally horny bastard like I am, you'll have no problem, and will probably find a way to do both at the same time (while gingerly justifying this to the girlfriend, or better yet, finding one who also thinks Leah Remini is cute).Well, now British scientists have stumbled on a form of male contraception that isn't too far off from my own method, except they've taken it a step further. Instead of simply rendering the sperm hopelessly retarded, they're deforming the poor hapless little bastards genetically, thus ensuring against the possibility they'll even find their way out, let alone impregnate anything. While working on a rare disorder that results in an inability to process fatty sugars, these scientists discovered that mice treated with the drug NB-DNJ couldn't reproduce, yet their sex drive functioned normally. A closer look at the little mice sperm revealed that they had grown deformed, with abnormalities ranging from bizarre nuclei to tails coiled around the head. What's great about this method (which will be tested soon on humans) is that, unlike other forms of male contraception being developed, this one doesn't inhibit production of testosterone. Hence, it also doesn't result in intolerable side effects like sudden mood changes and weight gain. Sound familiar, ladies? Seymore Butts… no, seriously Had enough of The Osbournes? Yes, it's true, it's not the show it used to be—the family's almost idiotic rise to fame has resulted in its members being so affected that it's hard to laugh at their well-documented foibles (then there's Sharon's cancer, never a subject associated with laugh riots). Fear not, reality junkies, for Showtime is here to save the day. The subject for the premium channel's own take on intrusive documentation is none other than happy-go-lucky Seymore Butts, aka Adam Glasser, porn veteran and entrepreneur. Like any half-hour sitcom character, Glasser is notoriously goofy and possessed of a distinct boyish charm. Now, I'm so far out of the mainstream that I have no clue what they would think would be the characteristics of a male porn star, but Glasser's day-to-day adventures are sure to tweak their perceptions. This truth, along with the fact that Glasser's mom runs his books, is surely what drew Showtime to the curly-haired hard-on factory. And, like The Osbournes, the show will play up Seymore's family life. "One of the reasons we ultimately decided on Seymore Butts, his mom and his cousin was his attitude about the business," executive producer Arnold Shapiro said. "He does have a code of ethics that he runs his business by, and lives by, that impressed us." Hmmm… I guess unlike all the other scumbags in porn, right Mr. Shapiro? "In his nonworking life he is trying to find love, he loves sports, he wants to settle down and get married," he said. "His life is full of ironies, it's full of humor, it's full of conflict, as you could imagine." And, I'm sure Shapiro 'n' Showtime are hoping, full of ratings, too.
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