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Facebook Knows If You're Gay, Use Drugs, Or Are a Republican
Hugh Pickens writes writes "Not that there's anything wrong with that — as the Guardian reports that Facebook users are unwittingly revealing their sexual orientation, drug use and political beliefs– using only public 'like' updates. A study of 58,000 Facebook users in the US found that sensitive personal characteristics about people can be accurately inferred from information in the public domain. Researchers were able to accurately infer a Facebook user's race, IQ, sexuality, substance use, personality or political views (PDF) using only a record of the subjects and items they had 'liked' on Facebook – even if users had chosen not to reveal that information. 'It is good that people's behavior is predictable because it means Facebook can suggest very good stories on your news feed,' says Michal Kosinski, 'But what is shocking is that you can use the same data to predict your political views or your sexual orientation. This is something most people don't realize you can do.' For example, researchers were able to predict whether men were homosexual with 88% accuracy by their likes of Facebook pages such as 'Human Rights Campaign' and 'Wicked the Musical' – even if those users had not explicitly shared their sexuality on the site. According to the study other personality traits linked to predictive likes include for High IQ — 'The Godfather,' 'Lord of the Rings,' 'The Daily Show'; for Low IQ — 'Harley Davidson,' 'I Love Being A Mom,' 'Tyler Perry'; and for male heterosexuality — 'Wu Tang Clan,' 'Shaq,' and 'Being Confused after Waking Up from Naps.' Facebook's default privacy settings mean that your 'likes' are public to anyone and Facebook's own algorithms already use these likes to dictate what stories end up in users' news feeds, while advertisers can access them to determine which are the most effective ads to show you as you browse."
And now slashdot does too!!!
My first contact with fisting was, of course, in San Francisco. I was out on the coast for a round of job interviews in the Bar area. My fluffy-sweater acquaintances in Cincinnati had scoped out the territory the previous summer and were full of dire warnings about South of Market in general and The Hothouse in particular, so of course that was the first place I headed. Now, fisting wasn't exactly a deep, dark mystery to me...somewhere along the line I had acquired the book from the movie classic "Erotic Hands" and I'd been jerking off to that for quite a while. You might say I was into the concept if not the reality.
Well, The Hothouse was everything I had been warned it was...humpy dudes wandering around in body harnesses leading their slaves on leashes, the whole trip. I nearly came when I walked into the shower room hunkered down on a plastic hose while he sucked his buddy's oversize cock. I checked out the sling rooms, but I spent most of the night doing conventional if rougher-than-usual sex.
I fell asleep with my door cracked. The next morning I woke up with this warm, wet feeling on my arm. I looked up and there was this hairy, muscular little dude impaled on my arm to the elbow! Holy shit! He looked down at me and grinned "Good morning" "Good morning yourself fucker." " Can you dig it!" "For sure, but I've never done it before" Well, that turned his motor on, and soon became oblivious that he wasn't gonna dismount my arm until he had showed me all the right moves. We ended up with me punch-fucking him doggy--style with a cheering audience of six or seven leathermen. Well, my arm was busy most of the morning, but my asshole stayed virgin.
I sorta filed the experience away and chewed on it until my next trip to the coast. I only knew one dude in Cincinnati that was into handball, and we were friends, not fuck-buddies, so I didn't get a chance to practice again until another job interview took me to San Diego. The job panned out. and I moved to California.
Now, you have to understand where I was coming from. Cincinnati is one of the most tight-assed Republican cities in the Midwest. There was one gay bar and no baths. If you wanted steam you had to drive to Cleveland, Toledo or Chicago. So the first couple of years in San Diego I was like a kid in a candy shop...baths, bars, and Balboa Park!
I fisted if I was asked, and if I was in a "top" mood I got off on it to a certain extent, but something was missing. What that "something" was I found out one night at the old Fourth Avenue Baths in Hillcrest. I was cruising the "open" rooms and came across this hot little blond surfer-type. We started getting it on, and our hands both started to go for the ass about the same time, so he called a halt to go fetch the Crisco and poppers. Now, fisting wasn't particularly on my mind...I figured we'd trade fucks and that would be that. How was I to know that gay surfers in San Diego get into handball?
Well. pretty soon we were pretty busy finger-fucking each other while we sixty-nined. Then he called a halt and sat up and looked at me. "Wanna go further?" "As in what?" "Fisting, man." "You or me?" "Whatever," he muttered. "Well, I've never had it, but I'm up for trying." Bingo! The idea of a virgin really pushed his button, so pretty soon I'm on my back with my ass propped up on a pillow and him sitting cross-legged below me.
"Your head's gonna get it done for you" he told me. "You gotta want me inside you. It's just like takin' a big cock. It'll hurt like hell goin' over the widest part of my knuckles, but then once it's inside you're gonna lose your mind!" Well, we had smoked a couple of joints and I was pretty mellowed out and the dude wasn't tryin' to hurry me. We rapped about all kinds of shit, but all the time there was this gentle but insistent pressure at my asshole. "How much you got in?" I'd ask him from time to time but he wouldn't tell me. "Don't worry about it...just relax and e