Today’s post comes to you courtesy of Google, where a poor, lost soul gripped in the icy talons of mortal fear landing on hategun by searching for “analingus death“.

How does one come to find oneself searching the Internet for such things? I imagine it goes a little something like this:

FADE IN:

“Dude, you’re not gonna believe what Sally let me do to her last night!”

“That thing with the glove and the can of Crisco?”

“Better.”

“Better than the glove? Holy crap! Tell me!”

“I said … whisper whisper whisper … so she … whisper whisper … and then I … whisper whisper whisper whisper.”

“I’m going to be sick.”

“She loved it. She said it was like sitting in pudding.”

“You can die from that, dude.”

“Shut up. No, you can’t …. can you?”

CUT TO: Bob sitting at the computer, hands shaking as he types. Hoping for the best. Fearing the worst. Glimpses of words and phrases flicker across his screen. “Cryptosporidiosis” … “rectal gonorrhea” … “hategun.com” …

God, what a way to go, huh? That’s gotta make for some interesting conversation around the office Monday morning.

“Morning, Jim. Did you hear about Bob?”

“No, what about him?”

“He fucking died.”

“Oh my god! That’s so awful! What happened? Car accident?”

“Worse. Analingus.”

“You can die from that?”

CUT TO: Jim sitting at the computer, hands shaking as he types …