Sleazins Greetings!

C.U.Morgenrede and I began the year by building a bookshelf. Little did we know that, by the year’s end, we’d have built a cummunity.

2025 was the Year of the Cum Cow, truly the best and worst of times. Unsurprising, for the cum cow is dialectical. She is celestial, as she is diabolical. She is love, as she is fear fuck. She is free-range, as she is factory-farmed. The cum cow giveth, and the cum cow taketh.

Still, our cup runneth over: all farm-fresh stuff, thanks to your hard wank work. We are sincerely grateful to call you our sloblings in the bovine divine, where we are always and everywhere profaning the immaculata, where we are always and everywhere making liquid pleasure sacrosanct.

It’s all about duality in unison, and at the intersection of duality is Cum Punk. It’s like high-brow titty fucking, basically, or any sex act that involves putting things between things cleavage in a way that does not divide but joins. When two boobs become one, that boob becomes one udder, and that one udder gets us closer to the three-titted woman from Total Recall, who is really the mother of all cum cows, which makes sense if you’re insane or high (or both!)

Here on this funny farm of moo wonders, our cum cows make the best turds for the growth of psilocybin mushrooms. But it’s all about becoming naturally psychotic psychedelic, made possible by the Esoteric Order of the Cum Cow, the dialectical cum cow who grazes the fuzzy hump between triple-X erotica and liturgy of the word, whose feces feed the mind and the very turf on which it feeds to create more turds from which more magical fruiting bodies may erupt. #shitpunk #yum

“Cum Cow” by Asia Brito Guerrero

Anyway, in 2025, I learned that sometimes you muck-wrestle the duende, and other times you go intellectual cow tipping. But at any given time, you might find yourself glob-smacked in the middle of Cum Punk, where all are welcome and well-cummed. We accept everyone and reject no one (unless your emission has no sex or cum in it whatsoever or is otherwise antithetical to pure cum joy, in which case we probably just won’t reply).

We look forward to 2026. Will it be the year of the fuck pig? If so, does that mean we’ll spiritualize the porcine while weaponizing the sexualization of cops? Who knows. But if you can count on anything, it’s this: Cum Punk will only get weirder, more alienating, and riper for cancellation by the vine that ate the arts.

Cum Punk #2: Wintry MiXXX drops early 2026. We’re still pushing a mop through our inbox, so if you’re expecting a word from us, you’ll hear that word soon (unless that word is no, in which case you may hear the sound of one hand fapping clapping).

This has been the year in review.

Yours in goo,

Kum V, Editor-In-Chief (Cum Punk Queen)