Rule 34 is no joke. (The tentacle rice bag)

Johnny Rotten has a neck that aches all the time. Whether it was from his time in the military or just because he’s built wrong, I don’t know. Fact is, it hurts. A lot. All the time.

I hate seeing him in so much pain, so I whipped out my trusty sewing machine and made him a reusable rice bag-you know, the ones you heat in the microwave for a few minutes for a hot pack or throw in the freezer for a few hours for a cold pack- to hopefully give him a little bit of relief from his achiness.

Clearly, I had the best and most innocent of intentions. I wouldn’t say I was being noble exactly, but if you want to say I was being noble, I probably won’t stop you. Probably-maybe-for sure won’t stop you.

I hmmmed over the design for a long time. It needed to be long and able to be wrapped around his neck easily….like a tentacle, kinda.

Oh my good lord, a tentacle was a great idea! I could make a long skinny heating and/or cooling pack, and I could be fancy and awesome wifey and paint a tentacle on it to make it even more badass for him. Old ladies have those floral rice bags. Who has tentacle rice bags? Only awesome people!

Only, y’all, I didn’t exactly know what a tentacle truly looked like. I knew they were the bottom half of my favorite sea creatures ever, but if you asked me to draw one, I’d probably have screwed my face up and drawn you a boob instead, because I’d be hoping to distract you from realizing that I don’t know what tentacles look like by showing proof that I do know what boobs look like. I’m sneaky like that, you know?

Anyway, I might not know what tentacles look like, but you know who does? Google does! I headed on over, and being the classy kind of lady that I am, I typed ‘cephalopod’ in to the search bar.

Lots of terribly scientific articles and images came up. They were good and all, but I wasn’t writing an academic paper on octopi and their bretheren, so I figured that maybe I ought to search for something a little less sciencey-sounding.

Very well. I, being the smart person I am, typed in ‘tentacle images’.  After all, that was exactly what I was looking for, and I expected hundreds of friendly octopi to flood my screen, showing me cheerfully what their legs look like so that I could paint a reasonable facsimile. *

I hit ‘enter’.

And then, I realized, milliseconds too late, that rule 34 of the internet — if it exists, a porn version exists on the net– existed. Milliseconds after that, I realized that I hadn’t bothered to ensure that safe search was on.

I was right in a sense. There were hundreds of octopi on my screen. Like any person who is naive on the net, I figured the thumbnails were giving me an unrealistic idea of what the actual image was.

Again, I was right in a sense. The thumbnails didn’t do the images justice. They were far, far worse than the thumbnails let on. These were no Beatles “Octopus’ Garden” octopi, they were straight up pervtacular. Bad octopus! And the squid were no better. Guys. You don’t even know.

I waded through the octoporn, as I was a woman on a mission. I would paint this thing if it killed me. And so, I spent that afternoon with crazyass porn and a paintbrush. Anything for Johnny Rotten, you know?

It actually turned out kinda well. I’m especially proud that I took the artistic license not to paint a phallus on the end of it. I guess I’m pretty good at this after all.


Still, I wonder…. would it have ultimately been cheaper to send him to a chiropractor, or is the therapy I now need cheaper in the end?

*-dont try this at home, kids. If youre a grown adult, do what you want. Just dont come crying to me when you feel that everything that you thought was good about marine critters turned iut to be very, very wrong.


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