Tag Archives: humor

I like a little production value in my pornography, dating sites, and other musings

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I just can’t help it; I think I really do like a little production value in my pornography.  No Avatar type special effects shit but a title telling me what I’m going to see and maybe who’s involved at least by gender if not scene name.   Look there is nothing wrong with a raw amateur shot romp or scene.  It can be great stuff if there’s heat and chemistry between the people but recently while perving videos on a few sites I found myself missing the production value of paid for porn.  Look I don’t need the stupid Pizza guy, pool boy, or head master visiting the maid, sorority type, or naughty school girl but Jesus fucking Christ if you are going to tape yourself fucking or playing rough whether it’s just by yourself or another human being then only share the ones that were fun and or interesting to you.   In other words Fuck, play or ram yourself or partner like you mean it!  Romantic and slow is fine I’m not saying all the action has to be circus tricks and jack hammer speeds set to early Metallica tunes with a 220 beats per minute metronome setting.

Here though is a hint if you don’t look like you want to be there then why I should want to watch.  I mean hell sell me a little through up some cheesey words saying that it’s the first time you put an huge miracle grow watermelon in your ass, or played doctor with an actual mental patient or shaved your pussy with a radiator fan from a 1942 Chevy pickup.  Whatever it is your doing if it’s worth taping tell me why I should care in the tile or opening because if I wanted to and often I do I can find other lewd acts to watch with people who are actually interested in being part of what’s going on.  Hell do a voice over saying the same kind of thing if you don’t want to type.   Don’t make me shoot home porn just to prove my point OK!  After all I have memorized Zack and Miri and the last thing this world needs is another wanna be Kevin Smith type.

Next up on today’s list of things… I can home to a mailer the other day.  Now like most American’s I get a lot of junk mail but what struck me as funny was it was an ad for Christianmingle.com.    I’m not only an atheist but I’ve  actually been married to the Chesty Blonde for nearly 20 years which makes it even more hysterical.  While I do like to mingle not being a Christian and being married made it seem like a waste of money.  Maybe there is a hidden message in it.  Something to the effect of “not getting what you need at home?  Remember what Frank Zappa said about catholic girls…well protestants and New Evangelicals are even more fun!”   I’m not sure where they bought the list from but sending an invite to a godless hedonist to come find someone on Christian mingle is like sending the Pope to a rave with four 18 year old female strippers and a two pockets full of X.  In other words it’s a complete waste.  A few days later the Blonde got a mailer too.  If I were them I’d fire my marketing company

Can you imagine if I was in charge of that debacle the mailer might look something like this.

Chirstian Mingle Ad Spoof

 

Yes I had some free time on my hands.   Anyhow I’d like to thank them for the offer but I’m pretty sure unless they want a few heathen tempters to fill paid positions in order to sort out the faithful from the fakers they really don’t want me on there.

 

BTW the Blonde is a little put out that Cougar Life hasn’t sent her anything.

How do you explain it?

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Road Sign indicating a Wooden Bridge ahead“So people were actually tying each other up?” They asked me.   The look on my face must have said everything that was needed but still I answered their question in a polite and deferential manner “Well it was a bondage themed party.  What did you expect?” I tried to add a little humor modifying a line I heard from a week or so ago “it’s not like they were doing a wasabi nasal fisting scene”.   Poof instantly I added a new level of concern and confusion to the conversation.  I could smell smoke because the term wasabi and the term fisting each illicit a strong response in most people even if they are not into to either thing but add nasal in there and well it all goes to hell pretty damn quick.

Ironically this was the second time in 24 hours I found myself in one way or another trying to help make a non kinky person see the proverbial light.  So that’s when the universe decided it was time that I address the subject head on and here I am writing about it.

Is it worth trying to explain in the first place?  Unless you are trying to explain it to someone you do or want to play with it might be better to not explain anything at all.  At the risk of sounding like a pompous elected official dodging a question let’s look at why…

If you state the painfully obvious “I went to an S&M (or any type of kink) play party”.  Insert ghastly looks from the non practitioners who immediately picture you as the victim or killer from some prime time crime show.   Rather wouldn’t it be better to say “I went to a private sex toy party with my XX, it added a wonderful new dimension to our relationship”.  Rope is a type of toy, so are collars, cuffs, paddles, floggers, whips, and migrant workers if you use them properly (kidding do not send the INS to my house) .  So let them think you spent the weekend keeping the energizer bunny in business instead of explaining why you were “playing rough”.  After all, every one of the suburban housewives I know has been invited to a sex toy party at one time or another.  Vibrators are harmless, non threatening and just part of adult life these days in just about every subdivision.   No more threatening than an old couple pitching an erection drug or the his and hers lube commercial on primetime TV right?  Ok who needs a new butt plug? Ohhh the taboo’s that get explored by nice normal folks over white wine would scare the hell out of….ok pretty much no one.

Now for example number 2.   A statement like “Damn there was candle wax everywhere, her tits, her ass, both pinky toes, the dresser, in her elbow crease, the rug, both or our left earlobes, and somehow we even got some on the ceiling; the sex was hot but clean up afterwards was downright nasty” instead try “during our romantic encounter that included soft music and candle light the darned wax happened to get on to the furniture and floor.”  Now you can have a lame conversation about why you need new candle stick holders or should just buy glass jar type candle from the local Ballmark store. You can say things like “Oh how I love the ocean breeze scent” or have you tried scent mixing?  You have to we light pina colada and mango peach and the same time and it smells amazing (sadly I’m not making that part up those scents do smell really good together).  Not long ago I was having a conversation with an old friend who thought she was telling a wild story about a couple they knew who tried candle wax and it was a disaster.  As all the other soccer moms looked on nodding like “we’d never act like that” I simply stated sure wax hurts a little but the real issue was they were doing it wrong.  Seriously people it’s not 1990 the internet while good for things like bargain hunting and sending picture of the kids to Mom is also a wonderful resource for learning how to hurt the people you love in a good way that they’ll enjoy and not set them on fire or send them to the hospital with wax burns on their balls.    In case you’re too lazy to look it up think of it this way.  If the flame almost sets their pubes on fire you are too close no matter what kind of candle/wax you are using. Look I’m no expert other than the fact I’ve never actually set a person on fire and I have played with wax a fair amount.

The third example involves swingers.   Simply put use the fight club rule the one that goes the first rule of fight club is don’t talk about fight club. The first rule of discussing swinging is don’t discuss swinging with militant monogamy types.  If for no other reason they don’t get the “if everyone is there together it’s not cheating concept”  because for it to be cheating the other person a) isn’t aware of the circumstance and b) when you are both fucking people you’re not married to often times in the same room if not at the same time for lack of a better term you are both consenting actual participants in the event and it is only cheating if said act is deemed to be against the rules.   Well that and most of the time they also miss the you want to watch who do what you your (insert name or role of choice).   For the record why is it ok to watch your monogamous wife go to town on herself with a giant horse penis dildo, anal beads the size of cue balls, and a Hitachi but not another man?  Seriously can someone who is into that please explain it to me?

Truth be told I was 21 and at the zoo and I saw giraffe’s fucking and it was traumatizing I had to look away from the horror.  To the giraffes it was perfectly natural.  This is how militant monogamists view multiple sexual partners, for others it is perfectly normal.  It all depends on your perspective but it you’re like me you’d rather see people having sex.  If not and you are not a zoologist working on saving endangered species please seek professional help immediately.  I mean now get going you fucked up perv!

Which Brings us back to the beginning how do you answer someone who looks mortified at what they just heard, maybe they’re frightened, appalled, emotionally distraught, morally out raged or maybe just maybe their just the slightest bit curious as to what it might be like. Being the bold type I find the best way is to offer to show them exactly what you’re talking about best case you get a new play partner worst case is the conversations ends abruptly and they hide from you from that point on.  Either way hey it’s their hang up not yours!

This post was written in jest and is not intended to be used as actual advice, unless of course it seems appropriate but be warned actually ever doing anything I suggest is done so solely at your own risk.  As my mother said if all your friends jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge would you have to jump off the damn bridge too?    At which point I told her only if I was the member of some deranged cult that required I jump off the bridge for purposes of inclusion or a leap of faith.  Yeah she never thought that was funny either.   Of course then Bungee jumping was invented which led to an entirely different line of questions that she never seemed to appreciate.

Have a great week!

-MalRoad Sign indicating a Wooden Bridge ahead

Stares Glances, Absurdity, The young Lady and the Dirty Old Man

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Stares Glances and absurdity

I have decided that a series of recent events are too funny to not share.  Sadly I will inform you that many of these pieces seems jaded towards the fairer sex which is rather uncharacteristic of me.  Still I’ve decided to share because well frankly some of it is funny, some of it appalling and all of it true.

Often I rant about things that tend to be on the edge of the mainstream and drifting toward the fringe if not well off into the weeds.  Not today though today I’m ranting about something rather demure but it seems to be a growing issue in my world.

Simply put I am a man with a wife and two daughters.  The oldest of which is 16 and when dressed up god help us all looks and carriers herself like someone 5-6 years older.  Sure there have been the few occasion when my itinerate and vile being has explained to some walking hard on she’s a kid so keep moving or risk drawing their last breath.  No she’s not half dressed, flamboyant, or anything even bordering age inappropriate.  In fact in most cases she’s better dressed than people I see on their way to church…which might be part of the problem.   Other than sporting the occasional university sweat shirt there is nothing misleading and since most of this state lives in Mizzou shirts even that’s not odd.

What I’d like to talk about is the women who glare at us as we walk through restaurants and malls together.  Their disapproving glances as we pass of the dirty old man with the pretty young girl as the withered old hags who can’t seem to keep their noses or opinions to themselves cast dispersions in my general direction.  Now I like to think it’s because they’re jealous that I’m “spoken for” but I’m not sure that’s it.

One old bag a little while back with her size 24ish ass came up to me and said “Don’t you think she’s a little young for you.” All but wagging her finger at me when the young lady was out of ear shot.  To which I replied “yeah probably so but considering she’s only here because I fucked her mother I suggest you mind your own business.”   Apparently Mrs Nebshit was offended buy my answer.  Look I get it most dad’s probably don’t go clothes shopping with their 16 year olds but welcome to the new millennium and shit happens.

Yesterday a gaggle of Flat Landers glared in my general direction as we came out of an afternoon movie.  Perhaps I was being paranoid and the snarl at everyone but was it the fact that Diva is young and pretty that garnered their glances.  If so here’s my advice, time is a bitch, smoking makes you age, now everybody say it with me “Sunscreen and exercise”.    Perhaps that was their assessment but they also glared directly at me in an unwavering fashion so I think once again they misinterpreted the situation.  My assessment they all need to go buy a good vibrator and learn to use it.  These were not unattractive women but they were also not on the prowl well cared for cougars either.

Not long after we found ourselves in a cantina having a little dinner.  A Charter Member of the Butt and Gut Club comes in and this time Diva notices the disapproving look.  So I tweet something cavalierly about the situation but it’s still eating at me a little today. Hence my rant.

Look I’m not a dumb ass and know there are 20 year olds banging 40 year olds probably all over the place hence the term trophy wife.  Odds are this has been happening since there have been 20 year olds and 40 year olds.  I get it but it’s probably obvious by basic body language the nature of the relationship.

Odds are though that there are a lot more men in their 40’s running around with girls in their late teens and early 20’s who are simply father and daughter.  So stop assuming some young harlot has stolen another man who might not be frightened off by your age.   After all it’s the nasty looks that keep me from flirting with you in the first place…well that and umm that brown velour sweat suit you’re wearing around.  Once again say it with me…”there is no such thing as your good sweat suit”

The Jack Ass convention I rock Ur Momma and Joe Bisexual's political platform in review

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This is political satire if you don’t like it leave because despite our governments best effort and yes it includes both the Bush and Clinton administrations equally. Free speech is still kind of protected by the constitution unless of course the above named duly (and I use the term duly very loosely in this scenario) elected officials disagree in which case it is no longer protected for the purposes of their political convenience. In that case you’re pretty much fucked and might as well have bought swamp land in Arkansas with a Koran stuck up you ass and a questionable name W’s TSA screening staff couldn’t pronounce because you’re never going to be heard from again. For the last time Miss Mary Security Screener my name is Polish not Armenian!

I am an equal opportunity offender all parties and persons are fair game. Politics are a joke so take it as one! Nothing like rich men with ego’s the size of say Venezuela pretending like they give a fuck about the rest of us. It’s the adult equivalent of a whore you dated in college saying I love you and then hanging up the phone to to be at the front of a TKE train. (No offense to TKE’s intended we all love a good gang bang now and then.)

Now on to the satire!

This week the top Jack Asses in the nation descended on the otherwise beautiful city of Denver Colorado to spew their self effacing vile political commentary in a desperate effort to appease the socialist nations of the world into once again liking us and taking our money and military support with a clean conscious. After all we all want to be like the French right? More on this later.

In the very beginning of the week I Rock Ur Momma announced in Ding field Ill a noise that he would continue to drive his platform of change in national politics into the collective consciousness of the lemmings who might vote for him on such a whimsical ideal of change. After all I’d like change! I’d like both political parties to stop wasting my money and fucking me in ass..financially of course with out the courtesy of lube, a reach around, or the first thought about the very fact that I might not like taking it up the ass to begin with.

So with such global political rock star status who would I Rock Ur Momma pick as his running mate to help change the political process? Bono ? Nah those two ego’s couldn’t co exist. Besides his views are far too liberal to be embraced bi the non tree hugging power base of the party. Well that and he’s not a citizen and he is a Christian which would be a message contrary to the “Islamic outreach” efforts I Rock Ur Momma’s campaign had been running.

Well with the only viable real rock start out of the picture, (although I’d vote for a ticket with Alice Cooper and Nikki Sixx on it; whiskey and heroin for every one). And despite the desperate out cries and mock political influence to pick his former pantsuit wearing competitor the reality is that if he picked the overly ambitious Billary Hinton he’d draw his last breath shortly after taking office faster than a pudgy little Jewish girl with a cigar in her kitty and spooge on her nice blue dress could disappear into oblivion.

It is quite a quandary as who could drive his platform of change. So why not pick a member of the established political machine as his “partner” in change. After all who better to work for change and innovative new ideas, reform. and all those other heady and nebulous campaign ideals like bringing power back to the people of this great nation than Joe Bisexual a long established card carrying member of the the political establishment.

Yes it would be a fabulous ticket of I Rock Ur Momma and Joe Bi Sexual from the great state of “you’d better beware”. He sports such wonderful accomplishments as lets see; he’s catholic so that makes him like Kennedy, He’s from Pennsylvania the spiritual home of mindless jack ass supporters for decades but so originally so am I.

As an aside once upon a time after the Catsup senator from Pennsylvania’s untimely demise and presumably before his widow started banging the metal tossing Senator from “Ass a chew this” I voted for Satan as a write in for a senatorial election, sadly I believe my vote was counted as a vote for Arlin Spector. My apologies to Beelzebub. Now back to the modern sodomy that is our political process.

Oh yes Joe Bi Sexual’s political accomplishments well he’s a six term senator so in short he’s managed to hold a job. That should count for something…I guess. He pretty much has a full head of hair at 65 a definite plus and has “ foreign relations experience”. To which I add oh yeah me too! I use to fuck and Italian girl six ways from Sunday, I did an Indian girl once to the Beastie Boys Rhymin and Stealin. Shamelessly cavorted doing all sorts of wild stuff with a series of girls from Toronto and St. Catherine’s Ontario. Does a three way with a girl from Kalamazoo and one from Mexico City count foreign relations? I like to think of it as Bi partisan international experience if you know what I mean.

Of course the jack asses trotted out to a standing and raucous ovation an aging peanut farmer from Georgia to celebrate the inflation rates, energy shortages and middle east crisis of the 1970′s. I don’t know about you but I can’t wait to bring back those good old days! Yeah 21% Mortgages and lines just like the commies. Heaven on Earth!

And then came Billary Hinton who has the audacity of having not given up hope. A fact she chronicles in her two latest books “ It takes a city to get these panties out of my enormous ass” and “My Philandering Husband, Cheap Hick Whores and Unattractive Offspring” (apologies to Chelsea on that. I know you didn’t pick your parents any more than those Bush Girls did).

She pretended to support I rock Ur Momma while praying for YHWH to smite her enemies. She is NY Jew right? No? She’s a frumpy girl from of all places Ill A Noise who became a baptist married to a pot smoking southerner but claimed a Jewish ancestor when running for office in NY. My bad!

In short this week’s political Olympics has never made me long more for in depth coverage of two guys from Toga and two guys from Burundi propelling a shuttle cock at each other at an increasingly faster and frenzied pace.

Do you think voting for a candidate, any candidate the French prefer and the EU is desperate for is the right thing to do? If so here’s a white flag and a big jar of lube you’re going to need it. Me I’ll be in, oh let’s say… Switzerland.

Join my next political satire during the other parties convention (I’m working on a clever name for them have no fear).

F'ing with lawyers, island nations, and straight answers

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Ok consider this fair warning for those of you that are newer readers. I mix in a bit of inane work related crap (whining, moaning, and lampooning the allegedly good life) and travel stories (bitching about the travel challenged) with my smut. I like to think I’m a deviant with a sense of humor.

So there I am suited up in my bluest blue suit, wearing my shiniest ego boosting black shoes, crisp white shirt, lucky cuff links and my favorite yellow shark tie in a proper Windsor knot that might have been cutting off the circulation based on what I’m about to tell you.

In front of me is a stack of paper thick enough to be War and Peace and enough red ink on it to make my bitch first grade teacher yell out in her insane ranting shrill voice “I told you that you’d be nothing more than a total fuck up! And you still can’t spell you stupid Pollock!!!”

She would be right about the spelling thing…to which I’d yell ” SPELLING TEACHERS ARE DINOSAURES…SPELL CHECK AND EA’s BITCH!”

Lawyers like to red line shit…it makes them happy. Oh yeah I’ve got enough lawyers around me to support and object to a recall of the Florida and Michigan democratic primaries for the next century. My lead counsel is sharp as hell and I really like her. Not something you’ll hear me say about most attorneys. Often I like what they do for me, I work with them because they are proficient and ruthless but don’t care for them as people. Seemingly “J” has a good soul and I genuinely enjoy our conversations. I didn’t pick her personally she was assigned to the project but I’m happy she was.

We’re arguing back and forth, they call it negotiating but it is really just civilized arguing. I want to fuck you out of this and won’t let you fuck me out of that. Add a little red ink. I want your soul to rot in hell despite the fact I’m the one who committed heinous acts during my life. Add some more red ink. You know the standard territorial pissing contest that is the business of corporate greed in America.

After several hours too long of working though a few points that if you need to sleep I can elaborate on for you pertaining to international tax remittance liability, currency fluctuations and the invoiced amounts owed that increase or decrease based on the value of the dollar against the in nation’s currency at a fixed point in the day vs the time of order and of course export compliance. I’m bored to tears and we shift topics in the name of progress. I’m nothing more than lovely window dressing, I don’t negotiate legal points and frankly am very happy about that.

We begin debating what countries are to be included in the contract and whether said territories are in fact sovereign nations or the possessions of other sovereign nations. Here’s a hint if you ever catch me staring at anything that the UN has provided like its officially recognized countries list run away from me quickly.

Often I say insane shit as a way just being a dick and amusing myself. Like the time a few months back when in a very snooty section of Northern Virginia the book store clerk who was obviously superior to me was being a complete jag off when I asked for help looking for a title. Then I made him help me try to find a Mouth Full of Razor Blades by Rev John Sleestaxx in the spirituality section for 30 minutes. (true story) I had him looking on the computer, insisting that they had to have it! Acting appalled when he couldn’t find any trace of it and told him that’s why I buy most of my stuff from Amazon.

Three of the islands we were debating on including is this charles manson post massacre legal agreement were named but actually completely uninhabited and several more had less than 60 residents. I try not to go to towns with 60 residents let alone islands.

I was growing tired of the business at hand and based on some posts a friend of mine had made on here about wanting to start a new island nation came to mind during a long tense pause with both sides glaring at each other, while flaring their nostrils, and sharpening their claws so we could continue to fight about everything that didn’t really matter. I make the idiotic statement “Yeah I’ve always wanted to find an island and declare it my own kingdom”.

The room full of carnivores look at me and “J” admits she wants to do the same thing. Both sides find a common ground and explain to me that there are international laws that allow for such action to be taken by in habiting an uninhabited island for a certain period of time. And that they’ve thought of it themselves. Reall is that what lawyers think abouyt when not screwing people for money?  See us sales abd business guys when were not thinking baout making money are thinking about screwing. Well that and golf, and fast cars, and boats.

I call bull shit thinking it was a chance to screw with the moron who wasn’t a lawyer. They all spend the next 30 minutes explaining to me what the requirements are, the probability of succeeding, and other information that I didn’t want or need. Tax attorneys, contract lawyers, compliance specialists, and a host of others who wasted thousands of dollars of legal fees on enthusiastically answering my question. Guess even they get tired of fighting and need a distraction.

BTW when after I got on a plane and went back about my regular business three nano seconds after I landed and fired up my Crack Berry there was an email from my lead counsel. There are seven US islands in the south pacific that are uninhabited that she’s considered “…but the severe weather patterns are most likely why they are un inhabited”

I expect a complete global list of uninhabited locales by Monday. Sadly I’m actually not kidding but “J” is my new idol!

“Good morning my name is Jill…and I want you to.”

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An off topic post about my day to day life but nothing sexual…it’s as close to PG as I’ll ever get.

So it’s dark out. How dark you ask? So dark that god damn moon hasn’t even begun to give way to the light of day, still dark enough to be called night even though soon it will be very early morning.

How early in the morning is it? Early enough that I moved past various security guards and national safety personnel who did their jobs without even a single word, syllable or grunt. It was early enough that I couldn’t feed my addictions, not even a little bit and the demons of countless sleepless nights were haunting me with all their might and I was on the edge of giving up the ghost and moving from a well dressed zombie to a member of the disheveled uncaring and hopeless living dead.

Walking down the freezing cold and dimly lit corridor, the question of how one ever gets to this point in anything, let alone day to day life occurs again. It nags like a fatal disease that hasn’t quite announced its horrific arrival yet. Lurking there waiting and ultimately squeezing out the last bit of hope from your very life.

Rounding the corner, breaking the threshold and heading into the brightly lit oblong chamber I make my way to the designating resting space, cursing profanely and audibly the brightness, every step, and my own very existence as I take my seat.

Then it begins, at a deafening volume breaking the tomb like silence that is the only blissful thing at that moment. “GOOD MORNING MY NAME IS JILL” Jill continues to blither on other pleasantries. After a few second reprieve the voice is again breaking the silence I am cherishing with all my being despite the blinding light which I’ve muted out with dark shades and closed eyes. A seemingly frivolous effort considering that it is still only slightly less dark out.

“Again good morning this is Jill and in a few moments…”

Jill is a bold face liar, how do I know this because there was no pardon from the blaring voice projecting her love of life and duties she continues on

“in the event of an emergency…” I pray that your voice is not the last one I hear. She continues on.

“in the event of a water landing” I’m dead no one survives those now please shut the fuck up.

She didn’t not announce “We will be dimming the cabin lights” and so god is mocking me yet again. No instead of that announcement she introduces the rest of her accomplices yet again and a few minutes after leaving mother earth the soliloquy begins.

“due to the short duration of this flight” Jill has decided she in going to read me a list of each and every available beverage known to man and then highlight the ones she actually has by reading those selections again.

“the following are your snack options….and “ you have nothing available for purchase that resembles food quit lying to me again you dishonest person.

Normally I don’t hate the beginning of any day just because it is beginning today however I despise the fact that the day exists to begin with.

Ding “we have passed ten thousand feet and” I pray to God, the Devil, Buddha, Allah, three ex-girlfriends, my second grade teacher, and the witches of Eastwick begging each and every one them with impassioned and devoted pleas to just make her stop.

But no life hates me and sleep is not something I will get to partake in then

Squeak , Squeak, Bang…Jill physically assaults me with her shiny metal wheeled box like implement of torture…it was not physical contact that was welcome. I am contemplating both legal action and professional psychiatric help because of the distress it has caused me. Odds are though since I’m still relatively young my hand and arm should heal nicely with enough rest, unlike the old man’s toes who I believe her pleasant cheeriness and efficient motions may have physically severed from his body.

During the time that the aforementioned Jill was spilling her joy and cheer on other unsuspecting souls Captain Ahab indulged his long ago hidden dream of wanting to be both a weatherman while finally helping to feed my addition and a comedian. I despise him even more than Jill since his position of authority and very literal control over whether I live or die necessitated that I listen to him on some level…just incase.

“We will be arriving” escape, the sweet smell of freedom sits a mere 100 miles in the distance. Ahh fooled again by her deceit and lies…we are not near our destination

“If you’ve not arrived here before it is a 25-32 minute walk”

Who cares I have no intention of walking that far

“Should you chose not to walk on such a beautiful morning”

How long was that walk again. Hmm wonder if she factored in thing like dragging a recently dismembered body along with you?”

“We will be” hiding your body in a forward storage compartment. Seriously can anyone really love anything as much as she does.

“Hi this is Jill again.” No shit Sherlock

“It’s has been my pleasure spending my morning with you and I look forward to seeing all of you again” Jill I know your face and should I ever see you again I may opt to take a different flight for the sake of my own sanity…unless of course it’s in a dark alley…then it may be a far less pleasant alternative.

Hot Chicks, tube socks, WTF

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There are some things in life I just don’t get.  Like why in the world the hooters girls wear those terrible little orange shorts.   Boy Shorts, hot pants, granny panties what ever would be better but the make shift running shorts don’t do anything for me.

 

 

Why a stripper gave my mammoth, itinerate, inebriated vulgar friend Pete cab fare to get home one night after he spent the entire night tipping other girls and insulting her. Some guys must just have that kind of appeal.  Or maybe some girls just like big muscle bound jerks, either way.

 

Why the waitress at a restaurant felt the need to explain her “Kiss my Taco” shirt to me if she wasn’t offering to let me do so.  Do I look that fucking stupid and straight laced that a total stranger unprovoked needed to explain the euphemism to me. I’ve seen a few and  heard the term before, no need to explain what you meant by kitty either honey but thanks for doing it I love when women I don’t know who are about to bring my dinner use the word pussy.

 

Why do birds sing, why do fools fall in love, etc. etc. etc. and a myriad of other insane things that probably don’t matter in the grand scheme.

 

So walking up sixth avenue not far from the ball field there’s brunette, white t shirt, nice rack, black shorts and tube socks standing on the corner.   Tube socks I asked?  She tries to hand me a paper and get me to hang a left and go to what ever it is she’s promoting.   

 

 I ask again about the socks, I’m baffled and on the edge of becoming dismayed.   Seriously what moron thought let’s take a really pretty girl put her on the street corner a few hours before game time and have her use her beauty to convince penis toting morons to come and drop their cash in vast amounts in my establishment.  Do you know what will really get them going?  Let’s put her in knee high tube socks with three stupid red stripes and all the other puds he pitched it to agreed.

 

Is everyone wearing tube socks?   I ask again.  She of course looks at me like I’m crazy and explains how hot everyone in the club is.  I could care less I’m still intrigued by the stupidity of the socks. She moves on to a pack of young Latinos who seem less concerned about her socks and interested in her boobs.  Which I might have cared moderately more about if I could get past why a stunning young lady was wear socks that reminded me of a grade school gym teacher.  They hang a left. I go straight and hit the book store a few blocks up. Shame is she was a very pretty girl, except for the tube socks.

Thongs, push up bra’s, itchy burlap, and the decay of America’s morality

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Greetings from the middle of a cornfield, if there is a hell, it is in the heart land and surrounded by cold winds, dark skies and brown desolate fields…and one very disgruntled foul mouthed and morally liberal east coast bastard or more simply put me. That is more or less where I am at the time of penning this little rant, in a make shift “city” in the great state of corn and formerly great state of a college football team dedicated to corn that now at very best sucks balls.

 

While for those from there might seem like the fourth horseman of the apocalypse but where my current home is had declared the end of the world on AM radio today as I drove to the airport and prepared to climb onto yet another flying phallic symbol.  “WHY FOR GOODNESS SAKE WERE YOU LISTENING TO AM RADIO”  you bellow at the top of your lungs and it is a point well taken the answer is simple…traffic reports.

 

The almost cookie cutter alarmist well informed and morally superior radio personalities come on using their 50,000 watts of influence and state “Tweens and teens in Push up Bra’s and thongs perpetrated by Victoria’s Secret”.  Now look anyone under 25 is probably far younger than I would entertain more than a passing conversation with on topics of a relationship of any type, unless placing a drink order at a regular stop of a watering hole then that is a relationship that I would fully support even at my somewhat advancing age.  But why the outrage?   To validate their point, they had two authors whose names I can’t recall but who claimed to “have their pulse on young people and trends”  they were billed as best sellers and had written books something like “inner beauty and burlap sacks”, and “keep your kitty to yourself you slut boys and grown men only want sex”  ok so I may have gotten the titles wrong but think I caught the general gist of their message quite well.

 

Yes the world is going to end any day not because Pakistan has been plunged into civil unrest and the nut job terrorists could wind up with the bomb, not because al gore has an ever increasing carbon footprint from running all over the earth telling us how to change our lives (try video conferencing instead of a private jet you big wind bag) but because teen age girls are wearing thongs and push up bras.  It’s been a while since I’ve railed against our stupid racist homophobic mentality as a whole but this one got me going yet again.   12 and 13 year old girls with the fashion equivalent of dental floss between their cheeks is the last front of moral decay.  Blah blah blah, ironically the push up bra topic got dropped almost immediately from the conversation…why?  Because flat house wives wear them to appear to have a racks since they were the age in question might be listening to the show.

 

“American business will sell what it can without moral regard.” The host and guests all agreed emphatically with the statement.  I shuddered at the hypocrisy.  Not a word was said about boys going from tighty whities and boxer shorts to skin tight sport briefs.  You know if they paraded though town in those the family jewels could and would be on full display.  But not a word it was all about girls as sexual objects…just like always.

 

 

As I pondered it I wondered what was thought of the decline of hoop skirts, ruffled bloomers and the god awful invention of the tennis skirt and bikini. Moral out rage we must pass out hefty bag like garments to all females immediately or god will smite us.  Warnings of the end and utter demise of our moral boundaries probably echoed through the town square and in the papers.  Men used to always wear hates in public now it is guys in ball caps, a few older men keeping their bald domes warm and wanna be style conscious nut jobs.  (said the shallow man writing this while sitting next to his Burberry overnight bag, talk about hypocrisy!)

 

Then came the “blame the parents” but I would like to offers some of my own suggestions as to why and how to fix this possible dilemma with my typical tongue in cheek manner.

1.  Have a thong burning outside your chosen denomination’s religious establishment.   Burning books has worked so well over the last century it really should be expanded to undergarments.  While your at it I’ll be across town at the local slut fest having a let’s burn your Granny panties party with your sister and husband who also thinks you’re a maniacal prude.

 

2.  Require that all thong purchases be recorded and insist on the purchasers government issued photo id.  Log them into a data base and track these miscreants every movement.  It would also help flush out transvestites, cross dressers, homosexuals and couples  that believe that there are more than one or possibly two acceptable sexual positions.  You really have to watch out for those kinky fucks unless they are ordained ministers or gov’t officials then it is all OK.

 

3.  Random thong inspection stations in publics schools, movies theaters, 4h meetings, and restaurants.   Surely nothing could stem the terrible tide of thong wearing girls and women than that.  Bloomers would of course be issued on the spot and the thongs seized.  Pulled off in a grotesque and painfully embarrassing wedgie until it snapped and was removed over the offender’s head.  Women from 6-80 would fall into the legal search range as to avoid profiling.

 

 

4.  Here’s a keeper hey Susie Fat Ass and Mother Mary Morality.  Lose 170 pounds or so, get a skin tuck or two, buys some heels and strut around feeling sexy instead of blobish for a change.  Now put down the good book, get thee to a gymnasium, and end your 4 decade love affair with Big Macs, things deep fried in lard and resign your post as president at the local “Any Woman under a size 20 is a Whore” Chapter

 

5.  Only sell them with biblical verses on the front, something about wasting a man’s seed comes to mind, also the one about not coveting things, they there is all the ones about only god can judge.

 

6.  Sell them only in mommy and me packages.  Talk about sick that would be troubling.

 

7.  Think of it as a small solution to global warming call your local elected criminal and demant that all sexually based and appealing under garments be made from “green” cotton and silk.  Look at it this way less material even in larger sizes, more could be shipped at once the possibilities of positive environmental impact are immeasurable and far out weigh the moral damage they would cause.

 

Before the conservatives (as if any are brave enough to read me on a regular basis) blurt out.  “Malfic you don’t get it”, or “wait until you have a daughter”, or any other number of things implying I’m in the dark.  Take this in I have two girls that fit in the age range discussed tween and early teens and guess what their undergarments are none of your fucking business and aren’t really any of mine either unless they are strutting though the house in them.  To which a simple “would you put some god damn pants on” usually tends to do the trick.

 

 

Let’s take a poll Go to church an Sunday and look at all the good god fearing women there and count the fake tits, push up bras and guestimate the number of thongs.  Then next week end go to the local swingers club, count the fake tits and thongs but bet you won’t see many if any push up bra’s and odds are the fake tits and bra’s will be greater per capita at church then with the swing set.

 

Here’s another fun fact based on my life and my life only.  Early on and though my college years most of the morally loose women I knew wore the most conservative undergarments day in and day out and the prudes and non adventurous ones were the most scantily clad under their outer layer.

 

Now I’m off to start my burlap, bloomers, chastity belts, and more website.  I intend to market it to the Religious Right, Hasidic Jews, Environmentalists (they like burlap from what I’m told, oh wait that was hemp my bad) and Moderate Muslims by talking about the benefits of virtue, chastity and the time honored tradition of female sexual repression and then use the profits from their puritan asses to put my kids through college at Berkley or NYU.  Which might make them complete ranting nut jobs (like their father) but would at least make them tolerant of others and generally accepting of people as they are regardless of what they do with their genitals and their type of undergarments.