Enema Simulator
This anatomical model is an “enema simulator”. Sure, nursing and medical students need to know how to do an enema. And the colon isn’t just a gross pooptube, it’s an important part of the human digestion system.

But it costs $570, which is an awful lot for a fake butt. Surely there are people who would let you do it for free, or even pay you to enemize them. If only we had some kind of global electronic network of ass freaks so we could find them.

If you asked women today what their biggest problem was, I bet the majority of them would say “My armpit is dark as hell and I hate it.” Enter Mayfair Armpit Whitening cream, two hundred dollars worth of precious pit-whitening salve, possibly guaranteed to make your dreams come true, in some cases.

Ah, Dude Wipes. The wetnappy for men too dainty to use toilet paper or paper towels, but too self-conscious to buy a box of actual baby wipes. At $10 for 30 wet-wipes, that red-faced, ear-burning shame you feel when you grab a couple of pre-moistened wipes from a box with a baby on it had better be pretty strong.

Guess what, scared guy, we were all babies once, with poop on our sac of spuds, and the baby wipes worked fine. Swab your poopy nuts with the baby wipes and move on with your life. Or do what my old housemate does after he takes a monster Dump. Go for the old garden hose in the summer, and an old scarf in the winter.

This little asshole, according to the promotional text, has been the target of bullying and cyberbullying. I wonder why.

Most sad about this kid is the fact that he’s been on talk shows promoting the no-cussing thing for so long he probably feels it’s impossible to escape. Locking himself in the bathroom crying, whispering “fuck fuck butt ass fuck dick ass” over and over with the shower running, knowing he can never say it out loud.

For the little asshole who has everything, the $399 Blast Zone Ball Kingdom is a great way to kill a square section of your lawn and keep your prince or princess away from the horror of public bounce houses.  But it might be that in the age of helicopter parenting, a smothering plastic piece of shit feels like home.