ham fisted theatrics

People advertising anonymous blowjobs on the walls in public men's rooms need to get with the twenty-first century.

I'm not really in the market for such things, but I couldn't help but think that if I was, the stall-barrier scrawl "tap foot for BJ" would not be helping me out much. It's three AM and there's no one else in the library sub-basement bathroom and I can just SEE that my foot-tap would be futile. Unless it's gonna trigger a wall-panel from which will float a Blowjob Robot. And I can't help but think a Blowjob Robot has better places to be than a library sub-basement. People who can afford Blowjob Robots are not just gonna philanthropically donate them to universities for placement in their sub-baseement men's rooms. Men of all stripes might secretly thank them, but it's not the sort of donation that gets you ink in the Times.

There was competing graffiti advertising the eighth-floor bathroom as a hot-spot of clandestine mouthfucking, and that's another thing: the savvy BJ purveyor would slip the janitor a sawbuck to leave his ad and wipe away the competition.

I mean, at least some user comments. "About as skeevy as I expected" - Freshman on Misguided Experimental Kick. "Not as flashy as the eighth-floor bathroom blowjobs, but more reliable, which counts for a lot when you're in a rush" - Arab Studies Teaching Assistant. At least some recommendations of Other Creepy Activities You Might Enjoy. At least a podcast.

Like I said, I'm not in the market for anonymous bathroom blowjobs. But you don't have to be shopping for consumer electronics to know that the dude on the corner with his asscrack hanging out of dirty shorts trying to sell you a broken Betamax player is going about it all wrong.