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Jurassic Poke

Its penis was found in a 100-million-year-old fossil, but it’s not Sonny Bono. Meet the “Ostracod,” Paleozoic cousin to the crab and shrimp. Reuters reports that archeological evidence presented at a conference in Leicester, England, puts the oldest known penis in the age of the last dinosaurs. Although “sex” first became the most fun you could have without laughing 500 million years ago, there was previously no proof of it because the penis is typically composed of soft tissue that fossilizes poorly. Professor David Siveter of the University of Leicester said that studying gender and sexuality in the archeological record was helpful for determining the evolution of reproduction (in addition to providing a lot of spicy tips for Catherine Zeta-Jones and Michael Douglas). As it turns out, the Ostracod is a great standard-bearer for ancient masculinity, with not one but two functional penises and huge sperm ten times the length of its body. While we’re talking about the mating habits of prehistoric beasts — and restraining ourselves from mentioning Mick n’ Keith — a separate presentation at the conference led by Professor Scott Sampson of the University of Utah Museum of Natural History proposed that dinosaurs used their enormous horns, pikes, plates and crests to attract the opposite sex, much like peacocks use their colorful array of feathers. Having trouble conceiving of a sex-soaked land before time? Just think Jurassic Park IV: Bukkake Island.

Virgin Gives a Flying Fuck

With virgins, something usually breaks during sex — even the ones that cruise at 37,000 feet. Virgin Atlantic Airways’ new $200 million Airbus A340-600 features a private room with a changing table for infants. Introduced a few weeks back, the nappy nook has become the choice meeting place for members of the Mile High Club. The table, which was designed to support far less weight than the average honeymooner’s heaving buttocks, has been broken on nearly every flight. “We don’t mind couples having a good time,” said a company spokeswoman, “but this is not something that we would encourage because of air regulations.” However, the cheeky company, which has recently been promoting its flights as “Shaglantic,” has announced plans to strengthen the tables. (If you can’t beat them, conjoin them?) Amorous couples who can’t afford a trans-Atlantic flight are encouraged by This Week In Sex to continue breaking sinks, banisters, and the occasional noise law.

That Voodoo That You Do So Well

A lot of the stories we find here at TWIS leave us asking one simple question: “What the fuck?” However, a story that surfaced from Nigeria earlier this week would have left David Copperfield, David Blaine, perhaps even Siegfried and Roy scratching their heads in bafflement. A middle-aged woman in Abuja, the nation’s capital, allegedly caused the genitals of a market vendor to disappear. Eyewitnesses told reporters the lady approached the vendor and asked for a smaller amount of suya (a type of shish kebab, rubbed with ground peanuts and spices) than he was willing to sell. Giving up her attempts to low-ball the man for his meat, the woman left the spot — but not before touching the man’s groin. The vendor said he then felt as if “a bucketful of cold water” had been emptied on his head; instinctively, he felt his crotch and discovered that his genitals had disappeared. In response to a frenzied yelp for help, passers-by and customers swooped in on the woman and beat a confession out of her. After thirty minutes, pummeled and almost stripped naked, she finally told them that her boss had sent her to get a penis for some concoction he was preparing. The mob then “persuaded” her to “return” and “revive” the “stolen” goods of the suya seller. Said the vendor, “I thank Allah for the help of other people to get my penis back.” What the fuck?

Six Feet Under/One Leg Over

This just in from Italy: Unlike the Koran, the Christian holy texts don’t say much about what to expect in heaven. While Muslim heroes are assured battalions of vestal virgins who will cater to their every whim, a Christian believer can only hope for a “how-do-you-do?” from Saint Peter (the bouncer) and, if Renaissance art is anything to go by, the company of a few winged fat kids playing trumpets. So unless you are a card-carrying fan of Sisters of Mercy or Jeffery Dahmer, you probably don’t associate death with sex. An Italian funeral parlor is about to change all that . The proprietors of C.I.S.A. — a company in Rome that makes ornately carved caskets and ash urns — have decided to make their new line of products more appealing by draping scantily clad women over the woodwork. Consider for a moment the magnificent Filo Oro showcased on the site by a thong-clad lady with a bucket; in the background, a tasteful graphic connotes one’s final journey to the afterlife. Or perhaps the master craftsmen of C.I.S.A. could interest you in spending eternity in the luxurious Padre Pio, shown here straddled by a stripper enjoying a lovely glass of Chianti. The marketing ploy must be working since the company’s gone as far as producing a “sexy calendar” featuring the whole C.I.S.A. gang. Perhaps most intriguing is the demure Miss November/December, who it seems is mysteriously immune to the advances of a persistent suitor named Mike.






Additional research, puns, wordplay and double entendres supplied by Jim Jazwiecki.

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