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Thursday, March 25, 2004
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WHEREIN YOUR FAITHFUL CORRESPONDENT LEARNS THAT EVERYONE IS ENJOYING CARNAL PLEASURE BUT HIMSELF AND FORD W. MAVERICK
The sexual dry spell of my close, personal friend, Ford W. Maverick -the Pride and Joy of West-By-God-Virginia makes me feel better about my own externally imposed celibacy. Jesus, even Kilgore Trout has gotten some in the last two years. But not Ford and I.
Even the news, ordinarily the place I seek solace in the knowledge that somewhere out there, people have even more depressing lives than I do, has begun to taunt me.
As I went through my news links this evening, this is what I turned up.
-Kids in some place I've never heard of in Massachusetts are getting handjobs on schoolbuses. I couldn't get a handjob at fourteen! Shit, I haven't gotten one at all since I was thirty-two. I thought those were supposed to get easier to get as you get older.
-And they do, if you're over fifty and live in Detroit. If that's the case, you're literally tripping over pussy. As a matter of fact, those codgers fuck so much that their rate of HIV infection has doubled in the last five years. Me, I'm as clean as a fucking whistle. Not that it matters a whole lot. On the other hand, I'll be fifty soon. In sixteen years. Maybe things will pick up then.
Of course, I'll get some on my fiftieth birthday and that'll end up being the piece of ass that KILLS me! My luck tends to work that way.
-If I was smart, I'd get a job managing a Hooters. There I'd be surrounded to by hot chicks to be ignored by. But I could pay attention to them. Very, very close attention.
-I'll never understand why women get so upset over obscene phone calls. I've grown rather fond of them myself. Truth be told, I'm going to propose to the next woman who makes a dirty phone call to me. Scout's Honor.
And that's pretty much the news. I hope all you rat fink bastards out there are enjoying all your sex. I hate you all.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go masturbate.
Again.
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