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In the spirit of The Fly's Patron Saint, George Carlin (may he RIP), sex toys should be sick, not make you sick.*




The next time you get ready to snuggle up to your favorite purple porpoise for priapic pleasure, pause before you light your scented candles and take a deep breath. Assuming that your climax-cuddle-bunny is clean, we're gonna wager that what you're smelling is something like the brand-new vinyl shower curtain stench. We hate to ruin the mood, but there's dirty, and then there's downright dangerous. Most of your popular (and more affordable) sex toys are composed of a reeking combo of PVC, phthalates and paraben. These are the same toxic chemicals that were found in the huge number of children's toys that Congress banned the sale of earlier this year. Check out the excellent investigative reporting on the risks of phthalates and what alternatives are available.


Full Disclosure: The Fly is still pissed that most of the phthalate research was done on animals.







If it were up to us we’d round up all these sex toy importers and give them a prostate exam with a plunger!

The Fly

*You can prick your finger, but you can't finger your prick!"--G. Carlin

So a buddy of mine calls me up the other day on my flyphone to tell me all about the Great Pacific Garbage Patch.
"It's like an island of trash in the ocean. Supposed to be twice the size of Texas! An island! Give it a year and BAM! Starbucks and Walmart are gonna put down roots right in the middle of the Pacific."
I knew the answers but god help me, I had to ask him anyway. "An island? So we could see it from Google Earth? Or take a boat out to this garbage patch and play hacky-sac with someone's old water bottle?"
" Um . . . maybe you didn't hear me," he said. "You could put a Starbucks on it."
Far away, on Planet B, little green men are crowding around a laptop in Starflux, watching footage via satellite of me and my friend and this ridiculous conversation. They are laughing. And pointing. Laughing and pointing and holding their jiggling alien bellies. In my mind, a very smug and cranky alien (ol' Douchey McDouchebag) snarls and says, "One day those dumb earthlings are gonna blow themselves up. Thank Flod we got Michael Jackson out in time. All we need now is Chuck Norris."















First of all, my friend isn't stupid. People do this all the time. They see a catchy headline and fill in their own details before telling someone else about it. Or, worse, they DO bother getting the details but their crappy media source glosses over the truth and fills in the rest with unnecessary crap.
The Great Pacific Garbage Patch is not a "Patch" or an "Island", as many headlines claim. You can't see it from Google Earth. We can't sink it or collect it in a giant net and pull it out of the ocean. I mean, Chuck Norris could, but he's busy slamming revolving doors and throwing random children into the sun. You could search all over the internet to find out the truth about the garbage patch or you could just see it right here:



See the blog post. (But come right back.)
So that's it. Plastic in the Pacific Ocean has photodegraded, breaking down into smaller and smaller bi