[Useless]

Originally Posted by Chop Smith

I rather get my legal advice from Cleo's bird. Well if it was a serious question, I guess I would ask Filthy Earl.

Good on ya!
Being Filthy Earl's official legal proxy, I would like to inform you that, in Earl's learned opinion,

Originally Posted by FILTHY EARL

...the DOJ will be able to pursue legal action against text links as soon as the government order is given to burn down our libraries. Until then, don't be afraid to tell your surfers that they should be fucking skanks in the ass behind gas stations.

In reality, text, even filthy text - is a good thing. When a censor attempts to apply the Miller test in order to judge a website for obscenity, an abundance of text may help sway the judgement away from purely obscene down to just normal nastieness. Text is an artful expression, no matter how lude, so it in effect adds balance to a site full of fuck pics. How anyone could say could legally punish you for the use of text links is beyond even my amazing levels of ignorance, which I have fought hard to attain.

When this excerpt from Bataille's The Story of the Eye is made illegal, then I'll worry.

All at once, to everyone's horror, Simone fell upon the floor. A convulsion shook her harder and harder, her clothes were in disarray, her ass stuck in the air, as though she were having an epileptic fit. But rolling about at the foot of the boy she had undressed, she mumbled almost inarticulately: "Piss on me . . . Piss on my cunt . . ." she repeated, with a kind of thirst.

Marcelle gaped at this spectacle: she blushed again, her face was blood-red. But then she said to me, without even seeing me, that she wanted to take off her dress. I half tore it off, and hard upon it, her underwear. All she had left was her stockings and belt, and after I fingered her cunt a bit and kissed her on the mouth, she glided across the room to a large antique bridal wardrobe, where she shut herself in after whispering a few words to Simone.

She wanted to jerk off in the wardrobe and was pleading to be left in peace.

I ought to say that we were all very drunk and completely bowled over by what had been going on. The naked boy was being sucked by a girl. Simone, standing with her dress tucked up, was rubbing her bare cunt against the wardrobe, in which a girl was audibly jerking off with brutal gasps. All at once, something incredible happened, a strange swish of water, followed by a trickle and a stream from under the wardrobe door: poor Marcelle was pissing in her wardrobe while jerking off. But the explosion of totally drunken guffaws that ensued rapidly degenerated into a debauche of tumbling bodies, lofty legs and asses, wet skirts and come. Guffaws emerged like foolish and involuntary hiccups but scarcely managed to interrupt a brutal onslaught on cunts and cocks. And yet soon we could hear Marcelle dismally sobbing alone, louder and louder, in the makeshift pissoir that was now her prison.

Half an hour later, when I was less drunk, it dawned on me that I ought to let Marcelle out of her wardrobe: the unhappy girl, naked now, was in a dreadful state. She was trembling and shivering feverishly. Upon seeing me, she displayed a sickly but violent terror. After all, I was pale, smeared with blood, my clothes askew. Behind me, in unspeakable disorder, ill bodies, brazenly stripped, were sprawled about. During the orgy, shards of glass had left deep bleeding cuts in two of us. A young girl was throwing up, and all of us had exploded in such wild fits of laughter at some point or other that we had wet our clothes, an armchair, or the floor. The resulting stench of blood, sperm, urine, and vomit made me almost recoil in horror, but the inhuman shriek from Marcelle's throat was far more terrifying. I must say, however, that Simone was sleeping tranquilly by now, her belly up, her hand still on her beaver, her pacified face almost smiling.