by Fiona Wilde.

It’s days like this when I wish I were Russian.

That country’s feminist punk rock band “Pussy Riot” is in the news again. If you follow the reports, you’ll know that the whole band was thrown in jail for advocating political views that ran contrary to those of Russian President Vladimir Putin. When he’s not being all James Bond badass by shooting tigers or flying helicopters or beating people at Judo, Putin relaxes by locking up people he doesn’t like.

But in the case of Pussy Riot, he’s making a terrible mistake. Russia will never be a world leader if they silence the band with the greatest name ever. I feel cool just saying “Pussy Riot,” and am kind of jealous we don’t have any bands here with names even as remotely awesome.

It’s not that rockers haven’t tried. There were the Sex Pistols, but that was a long time ago and they were British and the lead singer’s dead now. There’s Butthole Surfers, which is a bit too obvious to be cool and I don’t think they’ve ever done anything illegal. Some of the other names like “Pearl Jam” are suggestive but not as in your face as Pussy Riot. I read somewhere that Axl Rose is an anagram for Oral Sex. I guess that might appeal to a woman drunk enough to find Axl Rose attractive, but groupie blow jobs are hardly original.

To find anything even remotely edgy you have to go underground. And by underground I mean Massachussetts, where there’s a band called Anal Cunt. I had to dig around to find this one. Their style is “grindcore,” a musical genre with which I am blessedly unfamiliar. I always learn something when I write this column and today I’ve learned that grindcore doesn’t consist of pre-written lyrics, just a lot of “loud, fast, aggressive noise.”

Not my thing, but apparently some folks out there love them, some Anal Cunt, because the band has recorded eight albums, including “Fuckin’ A.”

Unfortunately, the band’s style may never catch on, so the only way for the band to end up famous is to go to Russia and piss of Vladimir Putin. I think they should hold a concert and announce they’re making him an honorary “Anal Cunt,” and then point out that the last name “Putin,” which is really “Put In” was just made for a member of Anal Cunt.

They’d probably end up executed, but at least music sales would go through the roof and we’d all have an excuse to say, “Anal Cunt” when someone asks what we’re listening to on our iPod.

One of my favorite singers is Amanda Palmer, formerly half of the duo “Dresden Dolls.” But even she realizes that it helps to be edgy if you’re stuck with an ordinary name like Amanda Palmer. So she sometimes refers to herself as “Amanda Fucking Palmer,” and that’s who I tell people I’m listening to when they ask. Amanda. Fucking. Palmer. I hope she never goes to Russia and pisses anyone off, because I’d be really sad if she stopped making music.

So I’ll settle for Amanda Fucking Palmer until Pussy Riot gets out of prison and comes to America where it’s safer. Maybe they can open for Anal Cunt when they get here. That would be the best concert since Anal Cunt opened for Shit Scum. Yes it happened. But that’s a whole other story…

My column today is about the sexiest guys I know.

Now, I know right now some of you are pulling up the sleeve of your t-shirt, kissing your bulging bicep and thinking, “She’s about to talk about men like me.”

Sorry, but nope.

To some women the sexy man is not the buff, athletic guy with the winning smile. It’s the fellow you’d least expect – the Geek, the Nerd – that average, slightly awkward but well-read guy who is familiar with each incarnation of Doctor Who, can rattle off the superpower and weakness of every Marvel superhero and knows exactly what you mean if you tell him The Cake is a Lie.

For more and more women, brainy is the new sexy.

Oh, you can laugh all you want. But while you’re making fun of grown men hunched over the table playing Dungeons and Dragons in the back room of a comic book store, your woman may be eyeing that IT guy at work and fantasizing about getting a little of his hard drive.

For some women, when we say size matters, we’re talking about the brain, and if your woman is a sapiosexual, your muscles are no match for intelligence that can deal fifty damage to her fidelity.

Sorry.

A few weekends ago, I went with my best guy friend to a Renaissance Festival. Prior to the event, another of my friends joked about this being the lamest thing ever. I set him straight.

“RennFaires are incredibly sexy,” I told him. “The whole place is one big nerdgasm. If you can’t get laid at a RennFaire, then you might as well just kill yourself.”

I don’t think he believed me, but that’s only because he’s never been to a RennFaire, where women in tight bodices are ready to fall on the sword of any guy with enough imagination to strap on a suit of armor and show up.

Geeks love roleplaying, and if you think it’s weird that your girlfriend wants to dress up as Catwoman, or even as an actual cat, as part of a sex game – be warned. Out there is some nerd who will be happy to have her increase his hit points.

Geeks are competitive. They’re not satisfied until the quest has been completed. They start with foreplay and just keep leveling up until the Orgasm. Geeks have a lot of imagination and gamer geeks, especially, have loads experience pushing the right buttons. For the latter, it’s not Game Over until she’s hotter that the fires of Mordor and screaming like Cthulhu.

And here’s the best part. Even when sex-loving Geeks aren’t having sex with actual people, they are honing their mad skills in the virtual realm. You haven’t partied until you’ve been to the BDSM sex club in Saints Row, or the brothel in Witcher II.

And even in games where the brothels are relatively tame, gamers have made mods (short for modification) to sex things up:

It’s not like this is new. Gaming has always been full of eager females, and they aren’t all like Princess Peach who stands around waiting to get saved. Miss Pacman has always been a game slut; nobody swallowed like she did.

So Beware the Nerds, guys, and discount their power at your own risk. If you’re just relying on muscle to keep her, you might want to start building up that brain. Or else it could be Game Over for you.

Copyright © 2013 Fiona Wilde • All International Rights Reserved You may not distribute or reprint this article, in whole or in part, without express permission from Sssh.Com