 IF I WAS PETER NORTH
I frequently find myself thinking about what a wonderful world this would be if only I were a better person. You'd think that going through life as a skunk and an ignorant motherfucker would be easy, but I'm here to tell you that it isn't. As a matter of fact, it can be downright trying some days. I'm not sure exactly how much alcohol and painkillers it takes to destroy the human conscience, but I do know that it's more than I can afford.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not all bad. In some areas, I'm downright charitable. How many of you can say that you spent an entire week burning a dozen porn DVDs for your readers? Not many, I'm sure. I'm also a very generous lover, more concerned with the orgasms of my ladyfriends than I am with my own. I've actually been known to actually sniffle and weep if my partner doesn't enjoy an earth-shattering orgasm at least three times during a carnal encounter. After all, why would god give me the tongue of an anteater if not for that?
None of the women in my life have complained about my cock. Indeed, some have been extraordinarily complimentary about its length, girth and skill. However, these women have also been known to be very considerate about what passes for my "feelings." My proudest moment was when a lover told me that I was "bigger than a black guy." What I didn't know then was that the black guy in question was Emmanuel Lewis. If I had anything resembling dignity left, that would've hurt.
Things would be so much different if only I was Peter North. In fact, the world would be a different place if I was Peter North.
Certainly, my putz has inspired some compliments and a certain amount of lust in its day, but it has never brought about the one thing a worthy tool always should, fear. It is only when a woman is visibly afraid of the oil derrick between your legs that one truly knows that one is a man. Or so I've been told. By women. Frequently, these women have been laughing. And that hurt.
But if I was Peter North, I wouldn't live my life shaking my fist at this knowledge. No, I would embrace and cherish it. I would foster it, just as retarded people do their "inner child." That knowledge would be something I would insert into every conversation I had, regardless of the context. It would be something I'd have printed on business cards that I'd hand out to random strangers on the street. I'd stop and watch the reactions of the passers-by as they read my cards. I'd see the visible hatred on the faces of the menfolk as their women fell in love with me.
I know what it is to be a sex object, to be sure. But the concept of being an urban legend is completely foreign to me. That wouldn't be true if I was Peter North. It would take me fourteen hours just to buy groceries for all the people asking me questions like, "Is it really that big?" and, "Can I touch it?" If I was Peter North, the questions I'm usually asked, like "Were you born this fucking stupid?" would be nothing more than a bad memory... mostly because my stupidity would be thought of as cute and something to be cherished.
If I was Peter North, I would probably need to employ bodyguards to keep dozens of women on the street from dropping to their knees and licking and nibbiling me through my trousers. Fun is fun, ladies, but there is such a thing as decorum. And decorum is important when you're Peter North. I think everybody knows that.
Just last night, I downloaded and watched Take That! The Biggest Pop Shots of Deep Throat This,(Link NSFW) a collection of vignettes of Mr. North ejaculating in the faces of dozens of young ladies. I found it to be an educational, if melancholy, experience. As I watched those girls guzzling gallons of goo, I thought about how different it would be if I was Peter North.
Make no mistake, I'd still hose a bitch down if I were Peter North. But I'd also devote my talents to the arts. I think that my voluminous jizz could revolutionize the world of abstract art. If some hack can fire a shotgun into a can of paint and make a statement, I would be the Jackson Pollock of bloated balls.
If I was Peter North, I'd take Pollock's artistic philosophy to an entirely new level.
When I am in my painting, I'm not aware of what I'm doing. It is only after a sort of 'get acquainted' period that I see what I have been about. I have no fear of making changes, destroying the image, etc., because the painting has a life of its own. I try to let it come through. It is only when I lose contact with the painting that the result is a mess. Otherwise there is pure harmony, an easy give and take, and the painting comes out well.
The only difference would be that Pollock's works hang on walls and mine would go back to work at the local Dairy Queen, or something. Maybe my canvas would be something hoity, like a librarian. But the sense of wonder and awe in everyone who saw my work would be pretty similiar.
If I was Peter North, I would serve the cause of world peace. I would be a powerful tool in the War on Terror, or Long War, or Global Struggle Against Islamic Extremism or whatever the Bush administration is calling it this week. How do you fight those who do not fear their own deaths? By making them face something that truly terrifies them, that's how! How do you think they would respond if they knew that every innocent person they killed would equal another month of smelling me every time they combed their beards? The Islamists have an enormous capacity for violence, but if I was Perter North, I'd have three or four litres of baby-batter boiling in my scrotum at any given time. For that reason alone, I'd win the Nobel Peace Prize.
That's not to say that being Peter North wouldn't have it's drawbacks. When I wasn't creating Great Art where only librarians existed before and defeating Jihadis with my jizz, I'd be dealing with my controversial past in gay porn (link NSFW.)
Thousands of dollars in debt, Al Brown entered porn to make money. Because they pay more, he did about two dozen gay videos. Using the name Matt Ramsey, he took it up the ass and gave it in such videos as Backstrokes, Below the Belt, The Bigger The Better, Blow Bi Blow, Boys of West Hollywood, The Company We Keep, Cousins, Euromen, Getting It, Hot Off The Press, Interview, Like A Horse, Master of Discipline, A Matter of Size, More Mind Games, Sizing Up, Switch Hitters 3, Two Handsfull and Young Gladiators.
Even though I'm not Peter North, I understand student loan debt as well as the next guy. That being said, I never changed my name to Matt Ramsey and starred in films like Blow Bi Blow and Switch Hitters 3. Instead, I used the name Mike Ramsey. Big difference. Google it.
If I was Peter North, I'd be pretty upset by the criticisim I got from professional homosexuals for my early work.
"I never thought much of Peter North in gay films," says Tim Evanson, RAME's expert on gay pornography. "Sure, he had an enormous cum shot. But as a bottom he never impressed me. He took some big (and limp) ones, but he also took a lot of average-sized ones. But he never seemed into it. He never seemed to really ENJOY a hard piece of meat sliding deep inside him, hitting all the right spots, stretching his hole to expose ALL the nerve endings. Rather, he simply seemed to lie there and take it.
"As a top, he never seemed skilled. He was no Darryl Brock... He didn't seem to know his way around a hole. He thrust well enough, but his aim seemed poor. It's a wonder he didn't punch a hole through the top of some sod's stomach. He never seemed capable of using the entire length of his cock. He'd always thrust hard, and still an inch or so would be outside the other man's ass."
If I was Peter North, I'd be upset not at the critique of my performance as a top. Rather, I'd be horrified at the description of my bottom experience.
Maybe this is the incurable heterosexual in me, but it seems as though that if someone is kind enough to take your cock up their ass, it is your job to make them enjoy it. Straight men know better than to criticize their ladies blowjob technique, lest they never get another one ever again. As a straight man, I can also say that finding someone - anyone - who'll let you fuck them in the ass is hard enough without fairy experts like Tim Evanson adding to the challenge factor.
Therefore, If I was Peter North, I'd have people like Tim Evanson killed. First, I'd soak them in my DNA, then I'd feed them to rabid wolverines, feet first. But first would come the splooge. And it would be a mighty flood of it. A flood that would inspire the building of arcs! A flood that people like David Vitter couldn't pass off to the Washington Post as a "personal matter."
But I'm not Peter North. And that's why you're all doomed.
Easy Listening Recommendation of the Day: A Wedding In Cherokee County By: Randy Newman From: Good Old Boys
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