This is so not a joke. And yes, the fact that I'm posting on it is utterly juvenile.

Apparently there is a whole species of birds called Great Tits, common throughout Europe and Asia in any sort of woodland. According to a birding website called Breeding Birds of the Wider Countryside (and I quote): "Great Tits have increased steadily since the 1960s, with the exception of two brief periods of stability or shallow decline during the mid 1970s and late 1980s. Recent CBC/BBS and BBS results suggest that this increase is continuing, in all UK countries. A positive effect of more food provision in gardens during winter is one possible explanation for the increase."

Personally, I attribute the increase in Great Tits to fashion magazines, the modeling industry, male libido, the cosmetics industry and consumerism, but what do I know.

If you're interested in the legitimate headline that put Great Tits in the news today, click here. Otherwise, feel free to continue experimenting with fun innuendo.

Boneheads like Tom Brokaw are pretty quick to romanticize the past, but truth be told, our great-grandparents may not have had it so great after all. Oh, if these balls could talk.

According to an online article about the history of masturbation, the tackle on this guy's pole is called "The Cage." It was just one of over 30 anti-masturbation devices awarded patents by the the U.S. Patent Office between 1856 and 1932. Amazingly, the Cage was a relatively gentle means of taming teenage lust. It allowed erections, but prevented the boy from touching himself.

Other inventors weren't quite as kind. Consider for example the Stephenson Spermatic Truss, patented in 1876. This device placed the penis in a pouch, then stretched and tied down it between the legs, making erection impossible. Stephenson changed his device slightly 21 years later, adding a metal hood under which the penis could move freely. Any erection would drive the penis against painful spikes.

Then there was the Bowen Device, a cup placed over the head of the penis and attached to pubic hair by chains and clips. When the wearer got an erection, the pubic hair would be plucked painfully and the wearer would have to respond.

Yikes. Funny that these accoutrements have since been appropriated by the kinky and/or deviant for much more scandalous business than masturbation. I can only imagine what Drs. Stephenson and Bowen would have fashioned for the masturbating cat. The mind reels.

Smug's twisted sister, Nugget Maven, has unearthed a new cyber-treasure. First, she introduced us to the Shock Absorber Bounce-ometer, and now, Mr. Monkey Chow -- aka, Adam Scott.

As Nugget Maven reports, this poor bastard has dared ask the question: Can a human subsist on a diet of nutritionally complete monkey pellets? He's on day five of his seven-day plan, and neither Adam nor his bowels are faring particularly well.

If the concept alone doesn't interest you, perhaps his silly Canadian accent will. Nothing better than listening to a Canuck repeat words like "poop" while gagging on food that's not fit for a prisoner. Check out Monkey Man's blog for more info; or, for the better version, go straight to the Monkey Chow Diaries on You Tube. To make it easy on you, here's a shortcut to his latest video update:

This one's for my brother, who traffics in cultural peculiarities and run-of-the-mill smut.

Smug would like to introduce her readers to the Ass Shot Blogger, with whom you may or may not already be acquainted. The bare-bottomed buckaroo has become such an attraction at Manhattan's Mr. Black that regular patrons and visiting celebrities (see Alan Cumming at left) have begun Kodaking their encounters and posting the images online.

Though he has been identified as a cocktail waiter, the ass-flasher in question has yet to be named. He appears to be wearing a tuxedo vest and some sort apron, which is remarkably less disturbing than the fact that he has a more delicate derriere than most women I know. Check out Ass Shot for the goodies. And to my dear brother: If this doesn't entertain you at work, I don't know what will.