I have to agree... There's nothing wrong with it, and I don't find it disturbing or anything... I just don't see it adding enough value to the experience on the Sift to warrant it being here, given that it is extremely explicit content.

I actually came across it through the "Kung fu Sex" video. When watching the sex kung fu vid, I think my wife explained it best: "It's just explicit content. There's not enough detail for it to be porn - porn is something designed to get you off. It clearly isn't designed for that. But it is explicit content." I personally think the same applies to this video - but the problem is, there are prolly some people who would actually think this is pretty arousing...

Regardless, it's not adding enough value to warrant the risks. This isn't just NSFW - this is as NSFW as porn would be... I think it's perfectly reasonable to draw the line at content like this. Besides, it's not like we'll suddenly be out of awesome videos to watch, if we don't get to watch old ladies masturbating.

>> ^dag:
There's absolutely nothing wrong with this- but it doesn't belong on the Sift. You know where to find it.

>> ^Shepppard:
I'm sorry, but anything that starts off with 12 seconds of cooch has to be classified as some form of porn.

Does it? http://www.videosift.com/video/The-ins-and-outs-of-a-Vagina

As you say, the point was not to stimulate sexually or titillate. So if we ban things that depict "sexual stimulation" then does this go too? http://www.videosift.com/video/Horny-Cat-is-HORNY or how about http://www.videosift.com/video/Office-Busts-Guy-Needing-Some-Private-
Time

This video is like Sesame Street compared to this, so I'm bringin' it back! (assuming you can promote a discarded video. Let's see). *promote!

>> ^kymbos:
I'm so glad I didn't watch this. The conversation is enough for me.


Never ever ever go back on this. Ever.


EVER.

Tokyo is pretty amazing, but I never really stuck around for too long after dark. I want to go back, now.

Apparently you've never driven a boat before or if you did you were a hazard to other vessels if you were at sea thinking that way. When two ships meet at sea they dont play chicken until theyve determined the comparative tonnages.

There are specific rules to follow to prevent collisions at sea. The Japanese ship didnt follow them and then after ramming the trimaran and nearly cutting it in two they tried to hose the crew into the freezing water. The work of cunts imo.

Briefly:
A steamer gives way to a sailing ship.

When two power-driven vessels are crossing, the vessel which has the other on the starboard side must give way.

The give-way vessel (whalers) must take early and substantial action to keep well clear.

The stand-on vessel (trimaran) may take action to avoid collision if it becomes clear that the give-way vessel is not taking appropriate action. Hence throttling up to get the boat moving to get out of the way of the ship (not to mention sonic weapons and water cannons), not to be cut in half or run over.

No collision can happen between two passing ships whilst a Green(starboard) light is opposed to a Green light or a Red(port) to Red.

PORT is the left-hand side of a ship looking to the bow, and is denoted at night by a red light.

STARBOARD is the right-hand side, and is denoted after dark by a green light.

If to your starboard RED appear,
It is your duty to keep clear;
To act as judgment says is proper;
To Port — or Starboard — Back — or Stop her!
But when upon your Port is seen
A Steamer's Starboard Light of GREEN,
There's not so much for you to do,
For GREEN to Port keeps clear of you.



>> ^bcglorf:
>> ^vaporlock:
I don't give a f^ck what your political bent is. You can't ram a ship in the middle of the ocean. They will be able to buy twenty of those little boats after the lawyers get done with them. WTF

Apparently you've never driven a boat before. One of the most basic rules is that the largest ship ALWAYS has the right of way. The reason is fundamental physics, the larger the ship, the more momentum it has meaning stopping or turning it is going to take much longer. A small boat like the one here doesn't get by hit a large ship like this unless it gets too close ON PURPOSE.
A boat that much smaller could literally run circles around the larger ship all day long and no matter how hard the larger ship tried it could never ram the smaller boat, it's just too slow and unwieldy by comparison.

I think I read a children's book with the same storyline as what you just told me. Maybe it was a Shel Silverstein poem...either way you shoulda taken a trip into uncle touchy's naked puzzle basement...

In reply to this comment by peggedbea:
i saw my vagina tell you her san diego story.
i have no distinct feelings toward san diego either way but, im going to tell you one of my san diego many stories.
1999. 17 year old bald headed bea is in love with a beautiful schizophrenic crusty gutter punk from san bernardino.
they go to san diego together. they are guttering around town late at night after dark. stoned. theyre in a field somewhere around town, like a large field in between an office building and a hotel. i have no idea where really. at the back of the field there seems to be just a random shortish iron fence. whatever. sit down to drink their malt liquors. then they get busy with the doin its. mid doin its some fucking train full of windows and people comes out of nowhere and drives by. right on the other side of that iron fence that were right next to. we could clearly make out several faces so we know they could also probably clearly make us out.

the best part is that im bald and boyish and were doin it doggy style, so hopefully they thought it was 2 dudes going at it. hopefully it was horrifyingly inspirational to them. hopefully this story is also horrifyingly inspirational to you. i strongly encourage ambiguous teenage sex all over the streets of your fair town.

youre welcome.

i saw my vagina tell you her san diego story.
i have no distinct feelings toward san diego either way but, im going to tell you one of my san diego many stories.
1999. 17 year old bald headed bea is in love with a beautiful schizophrenic crusty gutter punk from san bernardino.
they go to san diego together. they are guttering around town late at night after dark. stoned. theyre in a field somewhere around town, like a large field in between an office building and a hotel. i have no idea where really. at the back of the field there seems to be just a random shortish iron fence. whatever. sit down to drink their malt liquors. then they get busy with the doin its. mid doin its some fucking train full of windows and people comes out of nowhere and drives by. right on the other side of that iron fence that were right next to. we could clearly make out several faces so we know they could also probably clearly make us out.

the best part is that im bald and boyish and were doin it doggy style, so hopefully they thought it was 2 dudes going at it. hopefully it was horrifyingly inspirational to them. hopefully this story is also horrifyingly inspirational to you. i strongly encourage ambiguous teenage sex all over the streets of your fair town.

youre welcome.

I'd argue phrasing it "serving the public good" is an euphemistic way of placing a noble label to presumed safety through political coercion. Rarely do I see human government's purpose being that of service, but rather that of control and authority. I suppose by your logic, the Patriot Act should be considered a service to the public good, as well, as it was intended to supply us all with presumed safety at the cost of our liberty.

I don't believe there's a higher moral purpose than allowing every individual his or her self-evident freedom to choose for themselves. Your hyperbolic example of a person choosing between bankruptcy and "life and limb" confuses morality with fear.

You can find plenty more examples where fear can be used to scare people into surrendering their personal liberties and those of their neighbors, but where will it stop? After we nationalize health care, what will be next that will require us to give up our essential liberties?

Should be ban sidewalks because they're too close to the roads? What about compulsory exercise regiments for anyone weighing over two hundred pounds? Most people have an irrational fear of crimes committed after dark, so maybe a mandatory curfew on every citizen once the sun goes down?

A man's view will always differ from a woman's on this topic.

I have male friends that have no use for Porn and can't be bothered. I have female friends that love porn (books, magazines or video) and love it as a natural progression to their tastes.

It is truly a personal thing. And I think the industry satisfies a huge sexually frustrated population out there. (Male and Female). I'm sure it eliminates allot of sex crimes. Sexually frustrated people need to relieve their tension. Not everyone has a partner in life. Face the Fact!

On the same token, Porn can also be a marriage/relationship breaker in the same way "World of Warcraft" ruins relationships. It provides an escape in an already troubled relationship. When this happens, the true problems within the relationship never get resolved and things begin to crumble.

I'm sorry but I have to take the side of "both sides" here.
1). The porn industry is demeaning to women. Checks and balances will never filter out the scum. Some companies value their “actors” and treat them professionally. Some actors are self employed and run their own websites. Pornography is a multi-million dollar a year industry and where there is that much money, there will always be filth around the edges. Porn can be offensive and disgusting when people are taken advantage of and encouraged or forced to do something that is out of their comfort zone or when things are drastically out of it’s original intent or context.

2). Sex itself is neither filthy nor ugly. When it is between two consulting adults, that’s their business whether they want to be filmed or not. Some people just seem to like filming themselves (Male and female). I personaly, would never film myself or someone else but that is just me. Porn can be sexy when both sides are enjoying it. To even imply that sex is wrong in any form is based on literature originating from Chritianity. Sexual Desire was powerful and could not be controlled by the church and was therefore deemed against God’s will.


“Obedient Christians as sexually active children of God’s will refrain even from the irrational appetite, because otherwise they are heinous fornicators.”
The making of fornication By Kathy L. Gaca
The incubus was sexual desire made real and labelled a demon before god and people were put to death by the church for having sexual thoughts.

I could go on, but like any argument like this it is not “This” is right and “That” is wrong!
There is not light without darkness and after darkness there shall always be light. Ying Yang!

My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip.

I give Pirrip as my father's family name, on the authority of his tombstone and my sister - Mrs. Joe Gargery, who married the blacksmith. As I never saw my father or my mother, and never saw any likeness of either of them (for their days were long before the days of photographs), my first fancies regarding what they were like, were unreasonably derived from their tombstones. The shape of the letters on my father's, gave me an odd idea that he was a square, stout, dark man, with curly black hair. From the character and turn of the inscription, "Also Georgiana Wife of the Above," I drew a childish conclusion that my mother was freckled and sickly. To five little stone lozenges, each about a foot and a half long, which were arranged in a neat row beside their grave, and were sacred to the memory of five little brothers of mine - who gave up trying to get a living, exceedingly early in that universal struggle - I am indebted for a belief I religiously entertained that they had all been born on their backs with their hands in their trousers-pockets, and had never taken them out in this state of existence.

Ours was the marsh country, down by the river, within, as the river wound, twenty miles of the sea. My first most vivid and broad impression of the identity of things, seems to me to have been gained on a memorable raw afternoon towards evening. At such a time I found out for certain, that this bleak place overgrown with nettles was the churchyard; and that Philip Pirrip, late of this parish, and also Georgiana wife of the above, were dead and buried; and that Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and Roger, infant children of the aforesaid, were also dead and buried; and that the dark flat wilderness beyond the churchyard, intersected with dykes and mounds and gates, with scattered cattle feeding on it, was the marshes; and that the low leaden line beyond, was the river; and that the distant savage lair from which the wind was rushing, was the sea; and that the small bundle of shivers growing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, was Pip.

"Hold your noise!" cried a terrible voice, as a man started up from among the graves at the side of the church porch. "Keep still, you little devil, or I'll cut your throat!"

A fearful man, all in coarse grey, with a great iron on his leg. A man with no hat, and with broken shoes, and with an old rag tied round his head. A man who had been soaked in water, and smothered in mud, and lamed by stones, and cut by flints, and stung by nettles, and torn by briars; who limped, and shivered, and glared and growled; and whose teeth chattered in his head as he seized me by the chin.

"O! Don't cut my throat, sir," I pleaded in terror. "Pray don't do it, sir."

"Tell us your name!" said the man. "Quick!"

"Pip, sir."

"Once more," said the man, staring at me. "Give it mouth!"

"Pip. Pip, sir."

"Show us where you live," said the man. "Pint out the place!"

I pointed to where our village lay, on the flat in-shore among the alder-trees and pollards, a mile or more from the church.

The man, after looking at me for a moment, turned me upside down, and emptied my pockets. There was nothing in them but a piece of bread. When the church came to itself - for he was so sudden and strong that he made it go head over heels before me, and I saw the steeple under my feet - when the church came to itself, I say, I was seated on a high tombstone, trembling, while he ate the bread ravenously.

"You young dog," said the man, licking his lips, "what fat cheeks you ha' got."

I believe they were fat, though I was at that time undersized for my years, and not strong.

"Darn me if I couldn't eat em," said the man, with a threatening shake of his head, "and if I han't half a mind to't!"

I earnestly expressed my hope that he wouldn't, and held tighter to the tombstone on which he had put me; partly, to keep myself upon it; partly, to keep myself from crying.

"Now lookee here!" said the man. "Where's your mother?"

"There, sir!" said I.

He started, made a short run, and stopped and looked over his shoulder.

"There, sir!" I timidly explained. "Also Georgiana. That's my mother."

"Oh!" said he, coming back. "And is that your father alonger your mother?"

"Yes, sir," said I; "him too; late of this parish."

"Ha!" he muttered then, considering. "Who d'ye live with - supposin' you're kindly let to live, which I han't made up my mind about?"

"My sister, sir - Mrs. Joe Gargery - wife of Joe Gargery, the blacksmith, sir."

"Blacksmith, eh?" said he. And looked down at his leg.

After darkly looking at his leg and me several times, he came closer to my tombstone, took me by both arms, and tilted me back as far as he could hold me; so that his eyes looked most powerfully down into mine, and mine looked most helplessly up into his.

"Now lookee here," he said, "the question being whether you're to be let to live. You know what a file is?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you know what wittles is?"

"Yes, sir."

After each question he tilted me over a little more, so as to give me a greater sense of helplessness and danger.

"You get me a file." He tilted me again. "And you get me wittles." He tilted me again. "You bring 'em both to me." He tilted me again. "Or I'll have your heart and liver out." He tilted me again.

I was dreadfully frightened, and so giddy that I clung to him with both hands, and said, "If you would kindly please to let me keep upright, sir, perhaps I shouldn't be sick, and perhaps I could attend more."

He gave me a most tremendous dip and roll, so that the church jumped over its own weather-cock. Then, he held me by the arms, in an upright position on the top of the stone, and went on in these fearful terms:

"You bring me, to-morrow morning early, that file and them wittles. You bring the lot to me, at that old Battery over yonder. You do it, and you never dare to say a word or dare to make a sign concerning your having seen such a person as me, or any person sumever, and you shall be let to live. You fail, or you go from my words in any partickler, no matter how small it is, and your heart and your liver shall be tore out, roasted and ate. Now, I ain't alone, as you may think I am. There's a young man hid with me, in comparison with which young man I am a Angel. That young man hears the words I speak. That young man has a secret way pecooliar to himself, of getting at a boy, and at his heart, and at his liver. It is in wain for a boy to attempt to hide himself from that young man. A boy may lock his door, may be warm in bed, may tuck himself up, may draw the clothes over his head, may think himself comfortable and safe, but that young man will softly creep and creep his way to him and tear him open. I am a-keeping that young man from harming of you at the present moment, with great difficulty. I find it wery hard to hold that young man off of your inside. Now, what do you say?"

I said that I would get him the file, and I would get him what broken bits of food I could, and I would come to him at the Battery, early in the morning.

"Say Lord strike you dead if you don't!" said the man.

I said so, and he took me down.

"Now," he pursued, "you remember what you've undertook, and you remember that young man, and you get home!"

"Goo-good night, sir," I faltered.

"Much of that!" said he, glancing about him over the cold wet flat. "I wish I was a frog. Or a eel!"

At the same time, he hugged his shuddering body in both his arms - clasping himself, as if to hold himself together - and limped towards the low church wall. As I saw him go, picking his way among the nettles, and among the brambles that bound the green mounds, he looked in my young eyes as if he were eluding the hands of the dead people, stretching up cautiously out of their graves, to get a twist upon his ankle and pull him in.

When he came to the low church wall, he got over it, like a man whose legs were numbed and stiff, and then turned round to look for me. When I saw him turning, I set my face towards home, and made the best use of my legs. But presently I looked over my shoulder, and saw him going on again towards the river, still hugging himself in both arms, and picking his way with his sore feet among the great stones dropped into the marshes here and there, for stepping-places when the rains were heavy, or the tide was in.

The marshes were just a long black horizontal line then, as I stopped to look after him; and the river was just another horizontal line, not nearly so broad nor yet so black; and the sky was just a row of long angry red lines and dense black lines intermixed. On the edge of the river I could faintly make out the only two black things in all the prospect that seemed to be standing upright; one of these was the beacon by which the sailors steered - like an unhooped cask upon a pole - an ugly thing when you were near it; the other a gibbet, with some chains hanging to it which had once held a pirate. The man was limping on towards this latter, as if he were the pirate come to life, and come down, and going back to hook himself up again. It gave me a terrible turn when I thought so; and as I saw the cattle lifting their heads to gaze after him, I wondered whether they thought so too. I looked all round for the horrible young man, and could see no signs of him. But, now I was frightened again, and ran home without stopping.

Tags for this video have been changed from 'tone loc, funky cold medina, 80s, 1989' to 'tone loc, funky cold medina, 80s, 1989, loced after dark' - edited by MrFisk

Amsterdamn's red light district? Vietnamese massage parlors? Bangkok after dark?

*** UPDATE *** UPDATE *** UPDATE *** UPDATE *** UPDATE *** UPDATE ***

Last night when I was at Blockbuster, I noticed that the DVDs for the 2007 Horrorfest were now on DVD. So, now you can rent all eight if you want. Look for them under "After Dark" in the beginning of the alphabet.

I still need to sit down and do a synopsis of the 2006 bunch.

One of my many uncles (no, my mom is not a slut ) is a letter carrier, and if you let him he will happily tell you about all the misery that is involved in getting a letter from Point A to Point B these days. All over the country the Postal Service is understaffed, meaning that letter carriers are working well after dark delivering their routes and then part of other routes that have no assigned carrier because the assholes in management refuse to hire more people. He routinely and involuntarily works 10-12 hour days, 6 days a week.

How many of you get your mail after dark, or at wildly different times of the day, or by a different carrier every time you see him or her? That should tell you something. And by the way, postage is increasing by a penny starting May 12. Between rising fuel costs and the rapidly diminishing value of the dollar this should really be no surprise.