But they would probably have NO nekkid pictures of folks doing stuff.
And another thing about academic types….they have been nurturing the BLACK LIVES MATTERS movement. Who the hell wants to deal with these clowns?
I, me, yes Dr. Longfellow, am going to tell you what happened when God formed my now corpulent bod.
(The quoted text below is from an ancient scratchy tape recording made in the human baby incubator in heaven).
God looks down at me, scratches his beard…
“Let me see, let me see……two hands, to grasp Budweisers…..two feet, because he just doesn’t smell bad enough, a belly to place his Buds on….and snicker, snicker, need to make this REALLY INTERESTING , therefore I shall give him a brain tied to a penis with old kite string, that will keep him yipping for a lifetime.”
And God was right on that one. Started getting itchy when I found my brothers Playboy magazines when I was nine, and as of THIS MORNING, while admiring the yoga panted lassie deliciously bouncing in front of me at the Y, the itch still lives.
I figure that out of all the bad decisions that I have made in my life, sex has played a role in half of them. The rest dealt with money. And I guess I’d have to clear some space for food consumption decisions, which is happening at this VERY MOMENT.
I am 65 and damn tired of this crap. Time for a hormone-ectomy. I no longer want to feel that itch when observing a lass in a short jeans skirt or a hooters waittress candidate.
This stuff is just not doing me any good…at this stage of my life, most of these situations are just not able to be acted upon, and that, no pun intended, blows.
So, I will make one last desperate plea. If any of the thousands of women who read this post want a grayish, chubsy wubsy, cuddly, manly man, contact me. I will send you a care package including a pinpoint GPS, clothing that I would like you to wear, and unspeakably naughty lotions.
I await your call.