By Malcolm Christiansen and Michael Rader

Malcolm: Sex! It’s fun, everyone wants it, and there are any number of ways to get it. But where can you go if you’re creepy, spastic, ugly, or just generally unfuckable? The Internet, of course! The Internet is choc-full of creeptastic homebodies hungering after a few sweaty minutes with the person of their choice; some of them are women, most of them are men, and they’re all downright terrifying!

Lucky for you, TLG is on the front line, keeping you safe from scary old men who want to fondle your parts by making ass-fun of the terrible personals they post. For every installment, two TLG contributors will make accounts on one of the many dating sites that populate this web of ours, be immediately inundated with moist fuck-mail, and reluctantly pick out several choice profiles to riff on.

In this inaugural installment of TLG’s newest feature, Michael and I will be examining Seeking Arrangement, a charmingly upscale little slice of webspace dedicated to connecting hot, lazy, young people with rich, horny old people in a process that is just this side of prostitution. In other words, it’s where sugar daddies come to find sugar babies, and that means some truly alarming personals. Let’s jump right into it!

“Muy intersante!  Verdad?”

Michael: Oh… oh man.

Michael: He’s almost 70.

Malcolm: The description of the type of arrangement he wants is what terrifies me the most.

Malcolm: “Satisfying.”

Malcolm: That could mean any number of gruesome things.

Michael: It could mean pumicing his feet for all these unassuming women know.

Malcolm: Or it could mean feasting thrice nightly on the blood of virgins pure.

Malcolm: He looks almost a little too proud of that boat, you know.

Malcolm: I am willing to bet all the cash in my wallet that it was carved from the bones of orphans.

Michael: “I will expect you to fuck the boat. Fucking the boat is a must.”

Michael: “And I will watch.”

Malcolm: “Fucking not of the boat will have consequences. The boat will ANGER.”

Malcolm: “The boat will fuck YOU.”

Michael: Was the boat made in Soviet Russia?

“Metal Guy”

Michael: This man describes himself as “metal.”

Malcolm: Well, “Through the Fire and the Flames” came on just as I clicked that link, so I think he might be onto something.

Michael: Somewhere, Dee Snyder feels a great disturbance in the force.

Malcolm: I wonder what “self-employed” means?

Malcolm: Does he live in the woods?

Malcolm: Michael, I think he lives in the woods.

Michael: Lives in the woods, fighting bears with the power of rock.

Malcolm: You know what, I think he might be a druid. The more I look at this picture, the more convinced I am of how awesome this guy is.

Malcolm: Look at that smirk. That is the smirk of a man who knows that at any given moment he could summon forth a Gargantuan Earth Elemental to smite his foes.

Michael: I can completely picture him wailing on his axe during a thunderstorm, somehow harnessing the awesome powers of nature as an amp.

Michael: Standing atop a mountain, buxom nymphs clambering at his feet.

Malcolm: His “Arrangement I am Seeking” section is a little vague. I bet he’s looking for a second party member to tank for him while he casts Harness Nature’s Rock IV.

Malcolm: Wicked long casting time on that.

Michael: Probably about as long as it takes to play the solo in Freebird.

Malcolm: “Freebird” is totally this guy’s druid name. Agamemnon Freebird of Elad’ras.

Malcolm: He describes himself as a “light smoker.”

Michael: He literally smokes light.

Malcolm: I think we need to move on, or one of us is going to marry this guy.

“Play with Daddy in His Paradise”

Malcolm: You know, on the one hand, I want to slap him heartily on the back and congratulate him for being so sure of what he wants at his stage of life.

Malcolm: On the other hand, Jesus.

Michael: I don’t know, I think he’s got this whole life thing figured out. Here we all are toiling away like chumps when we could be whisked away to this island paradise and live like goddesses. Er, sorry, I get a bit too caught up in my alter ego.

Malcolm: You have to admire his willingness to admit that he can’t get a boner. “Unsuccessful with all viagra-type medications.”

Michael: He finally found the cure men have been seeking all along: hot, bisexual women.

Malcolm: Is it odd that the thing I find most worrisome about this profile is that he used single apostrophes to form quotation marks?

Michael: Freakshow! What does he think he is, British?

Michael: Oh snap, he has a newsletter:

Michael: http://www.pepeshideaway.com/newsletter.php

Malcolm: Huh. That’s actually pretty well-designed. Way to web, creepy metrosexual seventy-year-old dude.

Michael: I’m beginning to think this might not even be a sexual thing.

Michael: This reminds me more of that Simpsons episode where Kang and Kodos whisk the Simpsons off to share with them the wonders of their culture. I believe Pepe is just trying to share that magic he feels everyday with a few nubile bisexuals chicks.

Malcolm: Didn’t Kang and Kodos also want to devour the Simpsons in that episode?

Malcolm: …ooooooooooh.

Michael: No, no, Lisa only thought they wanted to. It turned out they were on the level.

Michael: In the same way, you and I are skeptical of the joys Pepe wishes to share.

Michael: You think he may want to… devour us, metaphorically. But I think there might be more there.

Malcolm: He also has a six-foot-tall statue of what looks like a hippogriff, Michael.

Michael: So, he has a hippogriff. Big deal.

Michael: More and more I find myself pining for this island Xanadu, cursing my father for giving me that damned Y-chromosome.

Malcolm: Dammit, this is supposed to be a “look at these creepy old men” article, not another “Michael wishes he were born a woman” article!

Malcolm: I think we’d better move on before any more uncomfortable epiphanies are reached.

“Gentleman”

Michael: I would certainly say he’s an unforgettable character.

Malcolm: This is what Oompa-Loompas grow into.

Michael: Oompa-Loompa Doompaty-Doo
I have got another riddle for you
What do you get when you make lots of cash?
The ability to buy yourself ass

Malcolm: I know he looks like such a sweet, cherry-cheeked old soul, but make no mistake: he will cut your throat and step over your cooling husk.

Malcolm: As he says, “There’s plenty of time to sleep in the grave.”

Michael: That is essentially the only advice in his book, the rest is just eyebrow grooming tips.

Michael: Step 1. Disembowel your competition and place their head on a stake outside your skyscraper.

Michael: Step 2. I suggest using geri curl for that “interested yet in control” look.

Malcolm: I don’t know why this punk is expecting anyone to respond to his ad. I mean, he’s only got a SMALL library named after him in Oxford University. Pssh.

Michael: You know what they say about guys with small libraries.

Malcolm: They don’t not know too much?

Michael: Also that they are grotesquely wealthy, cherubic millionaires seeking protege/fuck buddies online.

Malcolm: And, presumably, somebody to hang out with their 15-year-old daughters.

Malcolm: That must be one well-adjusted kid.

Michael: “Misty, look! I bought you a friend online.”

Michael: “I’m also totally going to ream her later, hopefully this isn’t weird for you at all.”

Malcolm: “You can play with her just after I’m good and done dragging my moldering sack across her brow.”

Malcolm: I love how we went to the exact same place with that. There is no way this guy doesn’t tell his daughter all about his freaky sex habits.

Michael: It’s pretty well the logical conclusion.

Michael: Imagine that dinner table.

Malcolm: It’s probably shaped like a map of Earth, with a flag planted in every country where he’s banged a hooker.

Michael: “Honey, did daddy ever tell you about his trip to Thailand?”

Malcolm: gestures to thick clump of flags

Michael: “It was when I first discovered my taste for ladyboys.”

Malcolm: impish wink

Michael: “Daaaaad!” *rolls eyes*

“Iron hand in the velvet glove”

Michael: Here’s one I’m sure you already have, but he sent me an e-mail, so it’s important.

Malcolm: What did his e-mail say?

Michael: You me he didn’t e-mail you?

Michael: I feel special.

Michael: “I am intrigued by your profile. Would you consider a dominant man in his late 60′s that would spoil you when good and spank you when bad? If interested write back.

Michael: “Master Mike.”

Malcolm: Holy shit.

Malcolm: It says here he’s a consultant. Do you think he shows up to meetings wearing a leather corset and assless chaps?

Michael: “Gentlemen, the key to any effective corporation is the principle of ‘iron hand in the velvet glove’”

Michael: “If you would allow me to demonstrate.”

Malcolm: “If you don’t leverage your synergies in accordance with Cisco 4.1 while tonguing my dusty taint, I will leave you in the harness overnight.”

Michael: When I first saw his picture two thoughts occurred to me.

Malcolm: Do share.

Michael: Thought 1: What the hell are the white spots in his picture? JPG artifacts or lice?

Michael: Thought 2: Holy shit this guy looks like the minster from the Baptist church my family attended when I was young.

Michael: Which just makes this one a bit too uncomfortable for me.

Malcolm: Well, that, and the fact that he’s got the same name as you.

Malcolm: Hey, maybe this is you from the future!

Malcolm: You have to admit, a lot of it fits.

Michael: Well, I do get sexually excited when I electrocute a woman’s nipples.

Michael: I figured that was normal.

Malcolm: And I remember you frequently expressing your fondness for over-sized old man indoor-outdoor sunglasses.

Malcolm: You know, I’m feeling better now. At least we know that in the future time travel will be developed, and that you will steal the machine and use it to go back in time to score some submissive tail.

Michael: Good God, I’m having a very existential moment. I’ve seen the path in life I will inexiorbly follow.

Michael: I’ve seen this dark future of knife play and rubber hoses shoved up colons.

Michael: And I’m loving it.

Malcolm: This has been a good entry for everyone, then. Moving on.

“THE HOLLYWOOD PARTY KING”

Michael: Hey! It’s Pat!

Malcolm: Pat?

Michael: It was a Saturday Night Live skit about an adrogynous person and no one could figure out their gender.

Michael: It was turned into a movie.

Malcolm: Yes, but this is very obviously a clay golem in human shape. Duh.

Malcolm: Don’t bother using magic against him, by the way. They’re properly immune to that shit.

Michael:

Malcolm: Okay, I find myself slightly swayed.

Michael: Is he hanging out with Courtney Love in that second picture?

Malcolm: Is he? Is Courtney Love the horrible mockery of the human form that appears to be undergoing an agonizing melting process?

Michael: Yes. That’s Courtney Love.

Michael: He obviously already has a hideous, empty gold digging harpy in his life, why is he on this site?

Malcolm: I hear that if you leave Courtney Love out of the freezer for more than a week, she starts growing mold and smelling like wet leaves, so he probably needs someone for every other week.

Michael: So we’ve established his motivations. I think we should discuss how incredibly WACKY he is. I mean, look at what a fun guy he is, he’s sticking his tongue out! Will wonders never cease.

Malcolm: I also like how he used ALL CAPS in every possibly place where you could enter text.

Michael: In that first picture he’s STANDING AROUND LOOKING AWKWARD WITH A DRINK IN HIS HAND ALSO SOME TACKY CHRISTMAS LITES ARE ATTACHED TO A PILLAR BEHIND HIM. Haha! I want to party with this wild and crazy guy.

Michael: I IMAGINE HE’S ALWAYS TALKING LIKE HIS WORDS ARE IN CAPS! GOSH GUYS THIS PARTY REALLY IS SWELL! I’M THE PARTY KING!

Michael: REALLY! I KNOW COURTNEY LOVE!

Malcolm: The other fields might’ve been dropping him subtle hints about his typography, but FUCK THAT SHIT. THE HOLLYWOOD PARTY KING IS BIG AND LOUD AND IF THE INTERNET CAN’T HANDLE THAT THEN HE’LL FEED IT TO COURTNEY LOVE.

Malcolm: Maybe we should move on. Courtney Love is starting to seriously unnerve me.

Michael: LOOK AT HER FEET! HAHA WACKY!

“Like No One You’ve Ever Met” (Picture split into two parts because… well, you’ll see.)

Malcolm: B-Ben? (Note to casual residents of the internet: you’re probably going to want to check out the videos we link to have any idea of who Mr. Metzger is.)

Michael: If not Ben Ryan Metzger, it’s his spiritual successor.

Malcolm: PLEASE BE SERIOUS ABOUT MEETING (atop the mountain where I have planted the flag with your name on it.)

Michael: Note the numbered list at the bottom where he explains that he’s the only genuine man on SA.

Michael: Admittedly, his list is incredibly accurate.

Malcolm: Wow. The other dudes were creepy, but this guy actually manages to be a cunt about it.

Malcolm: That’s practically zen.

Michael: Somehow Roissy in DC collided with Ben Ryan Metzger and the result…

Malcolm: An incredible cunt.

Malcolm: THE incredible cunt.

Michael: Faster than a speeding tractor tire rolling down a hill.

Malcolm: I don’t think it can be overstated: this dude is a massive cunt.

Malcolm: I mean, Jesus, look at his requirements.

Michael: So I can’t think of much more to say about this guy other than, man fuck this guy and his extreme cuntitude.

Malcolm: If Obama wants to fix your economy, he just needs to tax cunts.

Michael: And disband the disastrous Bush Tax Cunts.

Malcolm: Shut up, I’m serious. Fine someone a hundred thousand dollars every time they’re photographed on a jetski.

Malcolm: Add another fifty thousand for every time they use the word “natural” in online dating ads. BAM, GNP sorted out.

Malcolm: Hold up – that photo of him standing in front of Angkor Wat – does that look Photoshopped to you?

Michael: He definitely looks like he belongs somewhere else…

Malcolm: Hm…

Michael: Hm…

Malcolm: Well, that does it for this installment of Don’t Fear The Creeper! If you have any especially creepy dating sites that you’d like us to hit next time, don’t hesitate in leaving a comment or e-mail us your suggestion! ‘Bye for now!