I was in NYC last week—for reasons I won't go into—and dropped by the SoHo branch of Babeland, the Seattle-spawned, continent-straddling sex-toy empire. A member of Babeland's knowledgeable staff, the lovely and talented Pam, was excited to introduce me to a new and very popular sex toy: The Sqweel. The Sqweel isn't just giving copy editors fits (if you're going to mash up "wheel" and "squeal" shouldn't either the U or the H survive?); according to Pam, Babeland's customers love this little sex toy (sexoy?). A little black case with a removable lid conceals a wheel covered in silicone tongues. Take the lid off, dab the tongues with lube, crank it up, the tongues spin, and—well, here's the Sqweel in action:

The Sqweel freaked me out. The tongues are pink. And tiny. Really tiny. When I held the Sqweel up to my nose—it seemed like a good idea at the time—it felt like my nose was being fellated by the tiny, sugar-slimy tongues of a whole classroom full of first graders. It was not a pleasant sensation. But maybe I'm not the right target market. Maybe a guy's gotta get ordained before he can appreciate the particular sensations the Sqweel provides.

I wanted to title this post "The Popeil Pocket Altar Boy" but I wasn't sure anyone besides Keck would get the reference.