Bawdy Language

A sexual reference book like no other
Everything you always wanted to do but were afraid to say

Dr. Bawdy's counseling is wholly provided for informational purposes only. It is not a substitute for qualified medical advice from a licensed healthcare professional. If you're dumb enough to take it, you'll just have to suffer the consequences.

Side effects may include bloated retina, collapsed vagina, anal rash, nasal drip, and double vision. Contact an emergency room psychologist for an erection lasting longer than 20 seconds.

Any further questions regarding individual circumstances should be directed towards your general practitioner/pharmacist/veterinarian. As to any contemplated legal action, tell your lawyer that Dr. Bawdy says he should simply "Fuck off!"

Posts for Obscenity and Other Perverse Activity

Amongst his many talents, Dr. Bawdy is also an intrepid investigative reporter. Thanks to his efforts and a good camera, he can now share with you the first photos of Anthony’s Weiner. We first met him at Nathan’s hot dog eating competition. It was there that Joey Chestnut, winner of the contest endorsed Weiner in the mayoral race.

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Anthony’s Weiner in competition with the others

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Anthony’s Weiner in solitary contemplation

As a good Jewish American and a firm (what else?) supporter of Israel, Anthony’s Weiner professes to be 100% Kosher and a cut above the rest. Hebrew National, what else? We will resist saying how he does so with great relish.

Asked to explain his tweeting activity, he refused comment, saying “ I answer to a higher power.” Pressed further, as to when he might elaborate further, Weiner added, “When the moment is right.” This did not go over well with the press, however, who charged him with failure to rise to the occasion and flip-flopping.

More on Anthony Weiner

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Doctor Bawdy offers two of his favorite links for Anthony Weiner:

David Letterman on top Ten Names other than Carlos Danger –

bawdy anthony weiner

Best TV Jokes on Weiner:

Directly from the desk of Dr. Bawdy –

Republicans like to say that “government” is a dirty word. Closer examination, however, reveals that it’s just not the word, but the whole freaking enterprise that’s obscene.

Xrated politics

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in our capitol Washington, D.C. that we lay our scene), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty lamps that struggled against the darkness.

It was on that night that legislators surreptitiously crept through the back doors of the Capitol, far from the public eye to engage in — what else? — an orgy of government spending.

In ill-lit corners of the hallowed chamber, legal suits came undone and beltway manners, loosened as members shed their reservations, openly exposed themselves for who they truly were. Acts of naked aggression were commonplace. People of both parties were jumping all over one another. It was not a pretty sight.

For Democrats, the situation was all too inviting — treasury teats, firm, inviting, perky, pebbled, and plentiful, revealed themselves, all ripe for the taking. And take to them they did, passionately sucking on the pulsating orbs of Mother Liberty, whilst encouraging their mooching minions to join in. Tea Party Republicans protested, “Unhand them, Sir!”

A lone Democrat from the Longhorn State stood firm. Slowly but ever-so-methodically he began making his case, only to find the entrance to the silken love-cave, which held the treasured cache, blocked. He would not take no for an answer. Republicans voted “no, no,” but there was yes, yes in their eyes — those languid pools of deep blue splendor in which lovers find hints of encouragement. Our fair warrior pressed our fair nation on, stimulating her economy in slow but firm strokes.

A Republican maiden interjected, protesting his advance, invoking instead the guiding hand of the invisible marketplace. Indignantly, she grabbed his entitlement, flinging it furiously it to the floor. What do you take me for,” she cried out with indignation. “What kind of a girl do you think I am? “

“That is how ordinary people make ends meet,” the Democrat countered, “And you, my dear, are not above it.”

Elsewhere a throbbing (as well as pulsating and quivering) Republican member pressed his case against the nubile young Democrat. “No cover-ups here,” he screamed, ripping her dainty bodice from her trembling body. His hands moved downward, running through her briefs, in a blind search for the nub of the matter.

“Stop right there, you…you… dishonorable member!” she cried out.

“Assume the position,” he demanded, not missing a beat.

“Never,” said she. Their eyes locked. Slowly he advanced on his trembling prey. His lips pursed in anticipation as drops of warm moisture coalesced in the corners of his mouth.
Her torn outer garment at her feet, she stood before him, as her maker had created her. His eyes darted downward, finally alighting upon her surplus. The view was riveting. The gap between empty promises and limited finances stared out — moist and warm, yawning and inviting—beckoning him onward. “‘Tis a void crying to be filled,” he shrieked, “And I am the man to fill it… I will. I will. I can. I can.”

“Abort this mission, now!”” she screamed, her eyes locked on his heat seeking missile, preparing to launch. You are in direct violation of the penal code. Have you no sense of decency, sir?”

Alas, there was no stopping him. Intoxicated by a firm mandate from the previous election, he hammered his point home.

Politics indeed makes for strange bedfellows. In the farthest recesses of the chamber, a tiny minority were busily engaged in a caucus — surreptitiously engaging in unnatural acts which could only be described as “compromising,” reaching across the aisle, taking positions unknown to polite society.

“I’ve never done it this way before,” protested one reluctant participant, his voice trembling with fear and anticipation. “It’s a bipartisan position with which I am not at all comfortable.”

“One has to be flexible in such matters,” his counterpart argued. “There are times when you have to put country ahead of politics, moments when you have to bend over backward to accomplish something.”

“This is simply too weird,” protested another. “The state of the union is a state of traditional values and uni-sexuality — not behavior becoming of animals. And when push turns to shove, we must stand up for those beliefs.”

Amidst it all, there suddenly arose a tsunami of delight, a tidal wave of conciliation, which suddenly swept over all — followed by a giant cosmic sneeze. Seismic tremors shook the capitol to its very foundation; pyrotechnics exploded in midair, painting the evening sky with arrays of streaming, streaking color. Taste buds cracked and popped, filling the air with the fresh scent of French toast and chocolate. It was the moment of reconciliation: the Second Coming.

As fast as it had happened, it was over. Cigarettes lit up the chamber like fireflies at dusk, celebrating their coming out, and slowly, ever so slowly, the evening wound down — a pall of silence fell over the chamber, punctuated only by hushed whimpers and sighs.

The Speaker strode to the podium. It was time to formally bring the session to a close. ‘Twas a solemn moment, calling for great oratory. “This is a time when each of us should reflect upon his God-sworn duty, why we have been called to these hallowed halls. Look deep inside yourselves, not elsewhere, for the answer. Ask not what you can do to your secretaries and your interns, but what you can do to the country.”

A chorus of silent acquiescence nodded in assent. The gavel came down; its dull thud echoing through the chamber.

“This orgy is hereby adjourned.” He declared.

And thus conclude the sexual congress.

Back to the streets, poorly lit by the scanty street lights, its members repaired, once more struggling against the elements — the violent gusts of wind, the rain pelting in their face.

And that’s the way it is.

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Lechers have rights too. So says Dominique Strauss Kahn, lecher extraordinaire, fighting to throw out charges linking him to prostitution, claiming that what authorities are really doing is trying to criminalize lust.

It seems that DSK, as his friends like to call him, helped organize orgies attended by the upper echelons of international society and staffed by high–priced escorts. The exclusive orgies called “parties fines” were lavish Champagne affairs which cost around $13,000 each—were an organized road show of sorts roving from Paris to Washington by businessmen seeking to ingratiate themselves with Mr. Strauss-Kahn, one of the most powerful men in the world.


These soirees were orchestrated largely for the benefit of Mr. Strauss-Kahn, who sometimes sought sex with three or four women. Their format was simple. They would start with a fine meal and end with naked guests and public sex with multiple partners. Boys will be boys, and men, well…

There's really nothing really new here. It's all part of a long standing tradition, going back to Ancient Rome and the libertines of the 18th century. You know, the Find'em, fuck’em, forget ‘em school: Casanova, Don, Juan, rakes, roués, the parlor snake, and the contemporary ass-man. Strauss-Kahn considers himself among the greats. Alas, for those of us who are familiar with the philosophy of the Marquis de Sade, you my dear DSK are no Marquis de Sade.

Jimmy Carter had a lust for life and lust was only in his heart. But DSK leads a life for lust, and it seems to get no respect. He argues that just as the celibates of the Church have a right to have their sexuality or lack of same honored, so too should he and others for whom their penis is their North Star also be respected for their orientation and allowed to practice their beliefs freely.


It’s all boils down to an issue of basic human rights, says DSK. Stop discriminating against those with a different lifestyle—free-fucking, free-loving men everywhere.

And the women? "Ce'st la guerre," says he—collateral damage, or what have you. As to the maid he attempted to rape in his hotel room? Just one more of those people disrespectful of his rights… fuck yes!

It's all a matter of principle, you see. Give me libertinage or give me…

Keep up to date on the latest and greatest bawdy news. Sponsored by for the benefit of all mankind.

Paparazzi recently took us on a trip down Mammary Lane, photographing Kate Middleton topless, thrusting the royal orbs into the public’s consciousness and providing us all with food for thought.

Ever quick to seize the moment, Dr.Bawdy joined forces with the British Dietary Council and dispatched their own photographer to the scene.

After untold hours of snooping and prying, they can now share with you, the public, the fruits (amongst other thing) of their labors, as they revealed themselves over several meals.

As you can see, Kate’s founts of nature are nothing less than a sight to feast upon and a visual commitment of people everywhere to a balanced diet.

Kate Middleton topless 2012

Dr. Bawdy Recommends
An apple a day…Two are even better

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  • Fair apples in their prime
Kate Middleton topless

Sex can take many different turns. It can be a slight turn from the norm—a mere diversion (from the Latin di and vertere) or a complete u-turn (per) away from that which is normal, creating a perversion ( from per and vertere). Think you’d like a spot of perving (c.1925, Australia)? Fine. But only in moderation.

As Voltaire reminded us upon declining a second invitation to an orgy, "Once a philosopher, twice a pervert."

We heard recently of a spot (and spoof) of the sexual other: a young man in Arkansas who has an erotic thing about balloons. "Latex lunacy," you say. Hey, be not so quick to judge. Here's a guy who honestly loves balloons, and you're going to puncture his fantasy? That's cold!

baloon pervert

If you think it's all just so much hot air, you wouldn’t be wrong. There's already a subset of such fetishists whose thing is inhaling the helium. Balloon purists, the pure cuddlers, are quick to dismiss these folks, noting how "they simply suck."

Whatever floats your balloon. Right? The big Balloon Fetish Convention is scheduled for October 31 at the Dirigible in Las Vegas. Feel free to float on in.


The New Orleans Times Picayune recently reported that Reverend Grant Storms, an avowed anti-gay activist, had been arrested on "Obscenity of public masturbation.".

Following his arrest, Storms admitted to having watched pornography that day and putting his hands in his pants. "I apologize deeply for my inappropriate, sinful actions," he said tearfully, describing himself as "disoriented and confused."


Confusing actions such as Storms' are hardly isolated occurrences. They are a part of an extended historic struggle on the part of Church to come to grips with masturbation. It is a conflict which reaches back to the days of the friars of Merrie Olde England.

"When the flesh rebels against the spirit, asked a monk of his prior, "What do you do?" "I take my breviary and read it through," he replied. "And I" said a sanctified frater, "jump into cold water." "For my part, “observed a young fellow listening in, "I settle the matter at once without ceremony: I knock the brains out of the evil one."

Clearly, the last approach — the old one-two punch — was the same one favored by Reverend Storms. Alas, it doesn't bode well for his future. After his congregants have learned what has happened, the only thing Storms will be publicly pounding will probably be the pavement.

Dr. C.B.

Henrik Runnel's moment in the sun, receiving a medal at the Olympics for rowing, was momentarily upended when his penis became erect during the award ceremonies. "Is that a medal in your pants or are you just happy to be receiving one?" an unnamed Olympics official queried? .

olympic erection

Henrik's rigorously denied the erection, though pictures proved to the contrary. Intrepid reporter that we are, we went directly to the source for an exclusive interview with his penis.

erection fruit bananaerection tool

Dr. C.B.: Great to have you hear. Glad you could make it.
Penis: My pleasure. May I say hi to my Mom? …Hi Mom!

Dr. C.B.: Let’s get right to the point. Were you or were you not erect during the presentation?
Penis: Well, sort of…

Dr. C. B.: What do you mean sort of? Either you were or you weren’t.
Penis: Not true. There are varying degrees of tumescence.

Dr. C.B.: Where would you put it on a scale of 1-10?
Penis: An 8, somewhere between an adequate woodie and a profound steelie.

Dr. C.B.: And to what do you attribute its woody-steelyness?
Penis: There’s a natural urge to get up and out to join in the excitement, you know? Be part of the larger scene. And with everyone else coming to attention, I felt I should as well. It was after all a matter of great national pride. You know I have feelings too.

Dr. C.B.: How do you feel about your man denying that it happened. He is on record swearing you weren’t really erect, and that if you had been, he would have covered you with his flowers.
Penis: He’s in denial. Flowers would have been the ultimate insult. Having an erection is not a fucking funeral. I am his manhood and he should stand by me as I stand by him.

Dr. C.B.: And what do you make of his blaming it on the spandex?
Penis: Spandex, schmandex. Man, agreed it’s the pits down there, dark, snug, hot, and uncomfortable tucked away so tightly you can’t even move. There is a natural inclination to expand one’s presence, but you can only stretch the spandex argument so far. We’re both responsible for what happened and he more than I. Though I occasionally have a mind of my own, he’s got to take some of the responsibility.

Dr. C.B.: Do you have any personal dreams or aspirations you’d care to share with our readers?
Penis: I dreamt that one day I’d have my own day in the sun, standing on the podium alone at full attention with the gold draped around my neck, Henrik by my side smiling his approval and later embracing me, the crowd going mad, expressing its affection and approval of us both.

Dr. C.B.: What’s next in your life?
Penis: I’ve got a scheduled visit on the View, an interview with Letterman, a trip to Disneyland, and a bikini wax.

Dr. C.B.: Busy, busy, busy….Any regrets?
Penis: I hope that next time, that I can play an active part at a larger coming-out party. It’s pretty tough slumbering in the obscurity of the crotch, called on only when the things get heavy. Try it sometime, and you’ll know what I mean.

Dr. C.B.: Thank you for taking the time to visit with us. I really appreciate your candor. If I may say it, you’re a real stand-up kind of guy!
Penis: Thank you. See you around.