Okay, so … for various reasons I can’t be bothered to investigate … I can’t reply to articles in Publications.
If anyone wants to make some suggestions, I might get around to investigating but really all it has meant so far is that there needed to be a really good reason to do so, because it means creating a link in a post of my own, on my own profile, crediting the author and … you know what, I don’t need to respond to it that badly.
So, it had better be really special in some way … or my reply had better be even specialler … if I’m to do so.
My reply might be the wittiest, laugh-out-loud-funniest, insightfullest, whateverest in the history of our (or, indeed, any) species … to be discovered in years to come and held up for all Time as the exemplar non plus ultra of its kind … but, you know what … I seriously can’t be bothered to go to those lengths right now, so I’ll do it some other time — sometime soon … maybe … never … whatever.
So, if I do … then one and/or other of the original and my reply is just about the most whatever of its kind thus far … and likely to never be surpassed.
Right … so …
There’s something I haven’t previously posted because … well … even I balk at some things.
Not because they offend me … but because I don’t want to offend you.
No, really, if I offend you badly enough you might stop following me — and that wouldn’t be good for either of us, would it?
No … it wouldn’t.
Especially not for you — I’ll still be here following you, but you’ll miss my stuff … and you never know when it might just have been the thing that was life-changing … but you took offence to something for no good reason … a sense of humour bypassectomy or whatever … and, well, there we … or rather you … would … or rather wouldn’t … be.
I mean … it’s unlikely that I’ll be around forever anyway, so you really should make the most of me whilst I’m here, because you’ll miss me when I’m gone — the moral of the story is: be grateful for what you’ve got, because … basically … I’m fantastic!
So, by and large, I try not to offend too many of you too greatly too frequently.
But, on this occasion … well, it’s a risk I’m just gonna have to take.
You see, the original post that I am going to link to ... the reply I shall append to it … and the ancilliary media link … work too well together not to.
They’re a threesome made in Heaven — was there ever any other kind?
Besides which, most of you are used to ignoring me anyway and, let’s face it, the people who do read my ramblings are, of course, utterly demented … quite possibly even more so than I am … so, I’m unlikely to offend anyone at this stage anyway.
Unless you’re a newcomer … someone who has recently started following me because you saw me say something sensible … or amusing but not offensive … elsewhere.
In which case, I think it only fair to warn you that … along with occasionally having something sensible to say … even, on occasion, quite profound …
(if I do have to say so myself … because none of you ingrates will … <sigh> … I’m wasted on you phillistines, really I am)
… and being not altogether infrequently wittily amusing …
… I do also, just occasionally, say things in decidedly poor taste — sometimes even genuinely offensive … even to myself.
And this is likely to be one of those occasions.
What I am going to post is horribly misogynistic.
Hysterically funny — if you’re a misogynist, I suppose … I’ll have to think about that one; hmmmm, no, I think you can find it funny just because it’s the perfect example of a guy being a complete dick in just about every way possible … which is kinda the point of it really … he’s actually the butt of the joke (no pun intended).
But, still horribly misogynistic … albeit with the purpose of drawing attention to that very fact … to make the altogether opposite point — namely that misogynists are dicks (again, no pun intended).
So, if you have no desire to laugh at a guy being a dick in the worst possible way, you should probably stop reading after the embedded Youtube link.
Possibly just before the link actually — it’s kinda replete with profanity itself.
What prompted me to post it was a seriously amusing ‘email’ written by Jessica Wildfire.
Amusing if you’re a pervert that is … a masochist who wants to relive the shame and humiliation of past relationships — so, you can imagine my screams of recognition upon reading it.
PHOTOSENSITIVE EPILEPSY WARNING — DON’T WATCH THIS VIDEO IF YOU ARE LIKELY TO HAVE AN EPILEPTIC SEIZURE DUE TO FLASHING IMAGERY.
If you don’t wish to be any more offended than you already are, I suggest you stop reading here.
It only gets worse from here on in.
Okay, well, on your own head be it …
I know the counselor said we shouldn’t contact each other during our “cooling off” period, but I couldn’t wait anymore. The day you left, I swore I’d never talk to you again. But that was just the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact.
In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that. But now I see that my pride’s cost me a lot of things. I’m tired of pretending I don’t miss you. I don’t care about looking bad anymore. I don’t care who makes the first move as long as one of us does. Maybe it’s time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And this is what my heart says…
“There’s no one like you, Susan.” I look for you in the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they’re not you. They’re not even close. Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Ithaca Bar and brought her home with me. I don’t say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my desperation. She was young, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect body. Jugs you wouldn’t believe and an ass like a tortoise shell. Every man’s dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being blown by this stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we’ve made important in our lives. It’s all so superficial. What does a perfect body mean?
Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes. But you see what I’m getting at. Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart than my moderately attractive Susan? I doubt it. And I’d never really thought of that before. I Don’t know, maybe I’m just growing up a little.
Later, after I’d tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, “Why do I feel so drained and empty?” It wasn’t just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it hit me.
It didn’t feel the same because you weren’t there, Susan, to watch. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Susan, I’m just going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you.
Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met in Upper Side last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured I wasn’t eating right without a woman around. I didn’t know what she meant till later, but that’s not the real story. Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know we’re banging away in our old bedroom. And this tart’s a total monster in the sack. She’s giving me everything, you know like a real woman does when she’s not hung up about her weight or her career and whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother’s old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it’s totally hot, but it makes me sad too. ’Cause I can’t help thinking, “Why didn’t Susan ever put the mirror on the floor? We’ve had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex aid.”
Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicky’s just a kid and all, but she’s got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she’s been a real friend to me during this painful time.
She’s given me lots of good counsel about you and about women in general. She’s pulling for us to get back together, Susan, She really is. So we’re drinking in a hot bath and talking about happier times. Here’s this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18. And that just about makes me cry. And then it turns out Vicky’s really into the whole anal thing and that gets me to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fuelled some of the bitterness between us.
But do you see how even then, when I’m thrusting inside your baby sister’s cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you? It’s true, Susan. In your heart you know it. Don’t you think we could start over? Just wipe out all the grievances and start fresh? I think we can.
If you feel the same please, please, please let me know.
Otherwise, can you let me know where the remote control is?
Yeah … it’s bad and wrong … and John is a total dick.
But it’s just so brutally vindictive … cruel … ouch!
That and Jessica’s piece go together just perfectly.
I had to do it.
Normal service … such as it is … if anything around here could even be termed anything even remotely like ‘normal’ … will resume presently …