Posts Tagged ‘Sexuality’
Promiscuity. Please, teach me.
What is so horrible about promiscuity? If proper protection is used, and no one is physically harmed by the experience… What is it about promiscuity that gets everyone’s dander up? Please explain this to me.
Subquestion: Why is it that I only hear women being judged on their “promiscuity”? Are men not subjected to the same societal hysteria?
Please, teach me a thing or two.
A parable by Rev. Jim Huber (Required reading for Sunday School class.)
This morning there was a knock at my door. When I answered the door I found a well groomed, nicely dressed couple. The man spoke first.
John: Hi! I’m John, and this is Mary.
Mary: Hi! We’re here to invite you to come kiss Hank’s ass with us.
Me: Pardon me?! What are you talking about? Who’s Hank, and why would I want to kiss his ass?
John: If you kiss Hank’s ass, he’ll give you a million dollars; and if you don’t, he’ll kick the shit out of you.
Me: What? Is this some sort of bizarre mob shake-down?
John: Hank is a billionaire philanthropist. Hank built this town. Hank owns this town. He can do whatever he wants, and what he wants is to give you a million dollars, but he can’t until you kiss his ass.
Me: That doesn’t make any sense. Why…
Mary: Who are you to question Hank’s gift? Don’t you want a million dollars? Isn’t it worth a little kiss on the ass?
Me: Well maybe, if it’s legit, but…
John: Then come kiss Hank’s ass with us!
Me: Do you kiss Hank’s ass often?
Mary: Oh yes, all the time…
Me: And has he given you a million dollars?
John: Well… no, you don’t actually get the money until you leave town.
Me: So why don’t you just leave town now?
Mary: You can’t leave until Hank tells you to, or you don’t get the money, and he kicks the shit out of you.
Me: Do you know anyone who kissed Hank’s ass, left town, and got the million dollars?
John: My mother kissed Hank’s ass for years. She left town last year, and I’m sure she got the money.
Me: Haven’t you talked to her since then?
John: Of course not! Hank doesn’t allow it.
Me: So what makes you think he’ll actually give you the money if you’ve never talked to anyone who got the money?
Mary: Well, he gives you a little bit before you leave. Maybe you’ll get a raise, maybe you’ll win a small lotto, maybe you’ll just find a twenty dollar bill on the street.
Me: What’s that got to do with Hank?
John: Hank has certain ‘connections.’
Me: I’m sorry, but this sounds like some sort of bizarre con game.
John: But it’s a million dollars, can you really take the chance? And remember, if you don’t kiss Hank’s ass he’ll kick the shit of you.
Me: Maybe if I could see Hank, talk to Him, get the details straight from him…
Mary: No one sees Hank, no one talks to Hank.
Me: Then how do you kiss his ass?
John: Sometimes we just blow Him a kiss, and think of his ass. Other times we kiss Karl’s ass, and he passes it on.
Me: Who’s Karl?
Mary: A friend of ours. He’s the one who taught us all about kissing Hank’s ass. All we had to do was take him out to dinner a few times.
Me: And you just took his word for it when he said there was a Hank, that Hank wanted you to kiss his ass, and that Hank would reward you?
John: Oh no! Do you think we’re fools? Karl has a letter he got from Hank years ago explaining the whole thing. Here’s a copy; see for yourself.
From The Desk of…Karl
*****
1. Kiss Hank’s ass and he’ll give you a million dollars when you leave town.
2. Drink alcohol only in moderation.
3. Kick the shit out of people who aren’t like you.
4. Eat right.
5. Hank dictated this list himself.
6. The moon is made of green cheese.
7. Everything Hank says is right.
8. Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.
9. Don’t drink alcohol.
10. Eat your wieners on buns, no condiments.
11. Kiss Hank’s ass or he’ll kick the shit out of you.
Me: This appears to be written on Karl’s letterhead, not Hank’s.
Mary: Hank didn’t have any paper.
Me: I have a hunch that if we checked we’d find this is Karl’s handwriting too.
John: Of course! Hank dictated it.
Me: I thought you said no one gets to see Hank?
Mary: Not now, but years ago he would talk to some people.
Me: I thought you said he was a philanthropist. What sort of philanthropist kicks the shit out of people just because they’re different?
Mary: It’s what Hank wants, and Hank’s always right.
Me: How do you figure that?
Mary: Item 7 says ‘Everything Hank says is right.’ That’s good enough for me!
Me: Maybe your friend Karl just made the whole thing up.
John: No way! Item 5 says ‘Hank dictated this list himself.’ Besides, item 2 says ‘Use alcohol in moderation,’ Item 4 says ‘Eat right,’ and item 8 says ‘Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.’ Everyone knows those things are right, so the rest must be true, too.
Me: But 9 says ‘Don’t use alcohol.’ which doesn’t quite go with item 2, and 6 says ‘The moon is made of green cheese,’ which is just plain wrong.
John: There’s no contradiction between 9 and 2, 9 just clarifies 2. As far as 6 goes, you’ve never been to the moon, so you can’t say for sure.
Me: Scientists have pretty firmly established that the moon is made of rock…
Mary: But they don’t know if the rock came from the Earth, or from outer space, so it could just as easily be green cheese.
Me: Not knowing where the rock came from doesn’t make it cheese. And I’m not an expert, but I think the scientific theory that the Moon came from the Earth has been discounted.
John: Aha! You just admitted that scientists make mistakes, but we know Hank is always right!
Me: We do?
Mary: Of course we do, Item 5 says so.
Me: You’re saying Hank’s always right because in the list that Hank dictated Hank says Hank is always right. That’s circular reasoning!
John: Now you’re getting it! It’s so rewarding to see someone come around to Hank’s way of thinking.
Me: But…oh, never mind. What’s the deal with wieners?
(Mary blushes)
John: Wieners go in buns, with no condiments. It’s Hank’s way. Anything else is immoral.
Me: What if I don’t have a bun?
John: No bun, no wiener. A wiener without a bun is wrong.
Me: No relish? No Mustard?
(Mary looks positively stricken.)
John: (shouting) There’s no need for such language! Condiments of any kind are wrong!
Me: So a big pile of sauerkraut with some wieners chopped up in it would be out of the question?
Mary: (Sticking her fingers in her ears.) I am not listening to this. La la la la la la la la.
John: That’s disgusting. Only some sort of evil deviant would eat…
Me: It’s good! I eat it all the time.
(Mary faints.)
John: (Catching Mary.) Well, if I’d known you were one of those I wouldn’t have wasted my time. When Hank kicks the shit out of you I’ll be there, counting my money and laughing. I’ll kiss Hank’s ass for you, you bunless cut-wienered kraut-eater.
(With this, John drags Mary to their waiting car, and speeds off.)
Presented as a public service by
Set Free!
*****
WEB} www.jcnot4me
Email} JCnot4me@aol.com
**************
Kissing Hank’s Ass: A parable by Rev. Jim Huber
Copyright © 1997 Jim Huber.
Email Jim at: james@jhuger.com
All rights reserved. Used with permission.
For more heresy, visit the good reverend’s web site:
If I were a stripper…
If I were a stripper, I would limit my song selection to that of Ani DiFranco and Joan Jett (maybe a little Voltaire on the nights that I am feeling goofy). If I am going to dance around like a half-naked fool on stage, I’ll do it to music that I like, Dammit!
If I were a stripper, I’d fart during lap-dances on purpose. Any man insistent upon getting close enough to smell my knickers deserves the full tour.
If I were a stripper, I’d use a pair of ancient, malicious-looking scissors to remove my clothing. And if anyone tried to touch me I’d stab them with those same scissors then promptly return to what I was doing.
If I were a stripper, I’d morph my hair into a rainbow colored Mohawk, because I think that style would really suite my personality. Plus, I am of the opinion that I could have boogers hanging out of my nose and I’d still be sexy. Therefore, my appearance is merely an identifying characteristic and has no real bearing on how appealing I am. (Any who disagree with this theory can have a round with my blowtorch, because I DIDN’T ASK YOU.) Moving on…
If I were a stripper, all over my body I would apply messages with glow in the dark body paint like…
“Sharpen Your Daughters.”
“My Body, My Rules”
“Unless”
“Fuck War”
“If you lived here, you’d be home now.”
“Don’t drop the soap for anyone, but me.”
…and other stuff. Maybe once in a while I’d use Mud or fake blood instead. (For dramatic effect.)
If I were a stripper, I would work out all of the time! I would lift weights, and take kickboxing classes! Not to lose weight though. I just want to be a bouncer part time. I’d love a job that gives me an excuse to kick some ass on a regular basis. That would make my fucking day!
And this is because I like being naked. And I don’t see a problem with getting paid to be naked, or even flirting. Elsewhere, I do it for free. But I would never actually be a stripper because of the middle-aged greasy fucks that I would have to strip for. Eww…or worse yet…The fucking frat boys. (Advice: Polo shirts look great on lesbians, but not so much on you guys.) Personally speaking, I think that all frat boys should have to wear a sign that says, “Beware of date rape.” There is no way I am taking my clothes off in front of a whole pack of ‘em. I am smarter than that!
Hail Mother Spider
I have a spider in my bathroom, an English House spider to be exact. I sometimes imagine her breaking out the tea set with sugar and honey, inviting her friends to join her in polite conversation about the weather and the latest fashions. I never seem to make it to these parties. Very delicate and long legged is this type of spider, much like daddy-long-legs, but more streamlined, more graceful. The thought of killing her has occurred to me. Goddess knows she isn’t the only spider in the house, and certainly wouldn’t be the first spider to see the underside of my shoe. But for some reason, I just can’t do it. She built her web in relation to the wall and the bathtub, directly in front of the toilet. She built it such a way that during my morning bathroom rituals I don’t bother her and she doesn’t bother me, but she is in full view of everything. I wonder if she considers my bathroom to be her kingdom, and then my commonsense kicks in, of course she does. I suppose that I can’t just kill a female that is so brazen, such a rare breed. Besides, she eats flies. Bonus!
Last night I had a rare honor. I went to the restroom, and as I sat down to do my business I noticed that her web had two spiders. They were like mirror images of each other. They made slow gestures that seemed aggressive in their placement. As I noticed this I pondered whether or not spiders were territorial creatures. What I mean to say is, do spiders try to take over another’s hunting grounds? Was I watching a spider duel? I was intrigued. This went on for a minute or so, and suddenly the mirror image stretched out his fangs and then lurched his body forward. They connected and got sort of tangled. It looked like quite a struggle. Ihad expected one of them to stop moving, but when that didn’t happen an idea occurred to me…Spider Sex! Her majesty had a guest. I suddenly felt awkward for gawking at the entire arrangement without recognizing what it was. Am I jaded? I felt dirty. I felt so dirty, that I ran to the other room to grab my recorder. I already feel guilty, why not go to the next level. As I recorded the “last leg” of their entanglement, something occurred to me. How many spiders have watched me make mad passionate monkey lovings? I would imagine that there are quite a few considering my “passion” for the out-of-doors. With that in mind I felt justified in recording the exchange.
It must have been what spiders consider the missionary position. Do spiders have different positions? Is there a “spider style”? You know, your body doesn’t move all that much but you flail your arms and legs around wildly like you just won the fucking lottery. What about spider foreplay? Do they “play around” a bit first or do they just greet and go in dry? Can spiders speak to each other? If so, would they talk dirty?
And what should I do with the video? I’ve got it. It’s spider porn that I can sell to lonely spider singles all over the planet via (are you ready? This is a bad one. Brace yourself.) the world…wide…web.
