This is the second in a series of YNOT staffer Ben Suroeste’s responses to readers with porn problems, smut conundrums, obscene challenges and other indecent issues that “Abby” bitch will just never understand.

DEAR BEN: I have been married to a man I’ll call “Fernando” for over 40 years now, and while he’s otherwise been a great husband and father, every once in a while I find a small collection of pornographic magazines stashed away in his workshop.

These aren’t tame, softcore publications like old Playboy magazines, either. We’re talking the really hard stuff, like Sluts Quarterly, the disgusting, bestiality-themed monthly publication Game & Fish and the sickest of the sick, Cosmopolitan.

Now, because I have read the work of people like Gail Dines and Robert Jensen, I know for a fact this interest in pornography means Fernando’s mind has been fundamentally compromised by the sinister propagandists of the porn industry, who desire nothing more than to turn every man on the planet into a mindless misogynist who exists only to feed his shameful addiction. After all, left to their own devices, we all know men aren’t interested in depictions of sex, or in ever having sex outside the Biblically sanctioned purpose of procreation.

My question is whether I should a) call the police and report Fernando as a sex offender, b) organize some sort of “porn intervention” with celebrity host Russell Brand as a last best chance to rescue Fernando from the pornographers or c) just cut to the chase and murder the bastard in his sleep, framing our gardener Enrique for the crime, as I’m pretty sure he’s snuck a look at those horrible magazines, as well.

Please help!

Sincerely,
Mad in Munster

Dear Mad: While a lot of people out there think porn is no big deal, I’m not one of them. I’ve seen too much research on the subject. The incontrovertible, bottom-line conclusion is porn is nothing less than a spider-like sniper/vampire infected with the Ebola virus.

As such, I’m afraid I must endorse option c), immediately terminating the life-force of the undead thing that has inhabited your husband’s animated corpse.

I must warn you, though: Killing a gun-toting, vampiric spider isn’t going to be easy. At first glance, it might seem to take nothing more than a wooden stake, a can of Raid and the will to do the deed, but the truth is vampires have excellent survival instincts, even when they’re played by Tom Cruise.

My advice to you is to wait until sunrise, when Fernando will be at his weakest, and strike without notice or mercy. Remember, it’s not enough to stab him with the stake; it must be driven right through his porn-blackened heart.

As for Enrique, I’d say leave the poor bastard out of the whole mess — until or unless you can positively confirm he has been looking at Fernando’s porno on the sly, that is. This is America, after all, where until someone is proven guilty, the best we can do is have the FBI label them a “person of interest” and ruin their life without the formality of a trial. (Speaking of which, Enrique didn’t happen to live in the Atlanta area in 1996, by chance, did he?)

DEAR BEN: I’m a young filmmaker who is interested in breaking into the porn industry as a director. My dilemma is, even though I’m a man, what I’d really like to do is make feminist porn. Is this an option for me, or does a person have to be a woman in order to make feminist porn?

Please advise.

Disarrayed in Dakota.

Dear Disarrayed:

Unfortunately, based on my reading of various feminist tracts it’s simply not possible for a man to be a feminist, or even a relatively decent human being.

Don’t despair, though. There’s still one course of action that could not only render you capable of making feminist porn, but possibly even turn you into a global hero overnight.

Here’s how it works: First, associate yourself with the most self-absorbed, attention-starved people you can find. If possible, choose a group of individuals who are already negotiating for a reality-TV show of some kind.

Next, very publicly begin the process of changing your gender. Bear in mind, it’s not necessary to leap directly into gender-reassignment surgery. You can take this step later, or not at all. The important thing is, everybody knows you’re serious about becoming a woman.

The next step is pretty tricky — downright dangerous, even — so please approach it with extreme caution. You need to cause an auto accident in which someone dies. Please note, and this is very important, you must be absolutely certain the aforementioned person who dies is not you, because this would spoil the rest of the plan.

Once you’ve changed your outward appearance to that of a woman and smashed your vehicle into someone else’s car, or whatever (upon further reflection, simply running over a hapless pedestrian is probably a safer bet), then you need to start giving interviews to people like Diane Sawyer, Katie Couric and Jerry Springer. Talk about what a tough decision it was to become a woman but how you always felt this was your real identity, the trials and travails of being a woman trapped in a man’s body, and all the other related blah blah blah.

Another important note here: Do not, under any circumstances, mention your interest in making feminist porn, especially the part where this desire was the actual inspiration behind your gender transformation. If you do, people might get the idea you’re not the courageous, altruistic hero we both know you to be.

Once you’ve been lauded as the bravest American since Mitchell Paige, you can start making any kind of porn you want and people will eat it up. They’re going to eat it for free on a tube site, of course, but eat it they will.

Trust me, Disarrayed, just follow these simple steps and — presto! — you’ll soon become the biggest thing in feminist porn since that one infamous gangbang video Catharine MacKinnon made back in the ’70s.

If you have a problem you think Ben can help you with, please keep it to yourself. Alternatively, feel free to scrawl your question on a piece of paper, then bury it in the snow next to some obsessed guy’s Lego robot.