There’s a new movie called The Counselor with Cameron Diaz and Javier Bardem and as soon as I found out their #1 selling point was that Cameron has sex with a car… well… I felt a blog post coming on. Because who hasn’t been in this situation, right?

Is it even possible to have sex with an inanimate object? That’s the question of the hour. I consider it masturbation, but that’s just my logical mind coming into play. Unless that car is named Christine and has a will of its own, I don’t really see how “sexual intercourse” can happen. I don’t think there’s a person alive who wasn’t waiting for the kid to have sex with his car in that movie.

So, Cameron is going to make sweet, sweet love to this vehicle? Call me a nay-sayer, but I believe Hollywood is getting desperate to sell movies and make money. Think about it… people actually paid good money to go see Snakes on a Plane. I didn’t. The previews told the story just fine in a minute and a half. Snakes? Check. Plane? Check. Samuel L. Jackson cursing? Check and check. What more could possibly happen? I admit, I still haven’t seen the movie, but who allows thousands of snakes transport on a passenger jet? Get the fuck out… Samuel was saying the same line over and over in the trailer and that wasn’t enough to irritate the piss out of everyone? Okay.

I’m not saying it isn’t a sweet “ride” or anything, but I’m taken aback by the excessive advertisements about Cameron’s auto-lovin’. Have we gotten that perverted? Humanity is that bored? I understand the jaded populous wants more and more all the time. A lot of people have financial struggles that prevent them from travelling and taking real life adventures, but really? Car sex?

Look at him, just sitting there…

Can you imagine watching some crazy chick rubbing her muffin all over the windshield of your rad-ass sports car? That’s a rhetorical question. I can already see men everywhere shrugging and nodding in approval, but I don’t know many women that are willing to crawl on the hood of a car and slide their va-jay-jay around on the glass. If you’re willing, fine, but not on my car you don’t. That’s liable to piss off a car enthusiast lickity-split. I, sure as hell, am not willing to whip out the Windex because you wiped your filthy butt all over it in sexual ecstasy. Stop being dumb.

Movies are going too far. It’s bad enough that television is better than cinema these days. We’re now being lured to the theater with the promise of watching Cameron-fucking-Diaz pleasure herself with a car?