Cushion

Cushion: (n) a soft bag on which to sit, kneel, or lie.

I must warn you that if you are sensitive, parochial or very squeamish about sexual matters, you probably shouldn’t read any further.

So now that I have everybody’s attention…

I will tell you an embarrassing story.

When I finish telling you this tale, I will share why.

When I was eighteen years old, I had a girlfriend who went off to Europe and didn’t contact me. It was understandable in the sense that what we had shared was a high school affair. She experimented with me and I with her. She just thought the experience was done sooner than I did.

Problem was, the experiment brought about a pregnancy in the Petri dish.

Therefore, the lack of hearing from her left me upset, bereft, and dare I say, horny. (We all know that once you awaken the magical worm or open Pandora’s Box, there’s no going back to hand holding and kissing.)

Yet, I had no intention of finding another girl and having sex.

But no one—and I say NO one—ever taught me about the miracle of masturbation. I had no idea.

Even as I write this, I realize how unlikely that seems. But all I knew was that I had a penis that was looking for a vagina, and absent a vagina, an adequate stand-in was needed.

So one day, lying on my couch, I unzipped my pants and let my little wanderer out. I noticed that when I rubbed it against the couch cushion, it felt pretty good. After a few minutes, though, it also hurt.

It was a contest.

Does it hurt more, or does it feel good more?

I persisted—so much so that my little trouper got all inflamed and angry. It was very sore.

Trying to figure out what to put on my friend to make him feel better (because alcohol was bad and Ben Gay was out of the question) I opened the medicine cabinet, and there was my mother’s bottle of lotion. I put some on my hand and reached down to comfort the reddened area.

Eureka!

I not only comforted my penis, but ended up discovering, in that moment of time, what was missing from my training.

It was a magnificent moment.

Earth-changing.

I was grateful.

My girlfriend did come back and she became my wife.

But I will tell you one thing: it’s a damn shame if a young boy does not know the correct male usage for hand lotion.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Curse Word

Curse word: (n) a profane word, especially as used in anger or for emphasis

I just can’t keep up with the current scrutiny that determines what we have decided is profane.

For instance, early during the Civil War, should Admiral Farragut, during the Civil War, have said, “Darn the torpedoes!” instead of damning them? Or do we give him license because he was in the heat of battle and it’s our way of supporting the troops?

When the old-time revival preachers kept using the word “damned,” cursing people to “hell”—was that profane? Or was it merely offering a suggested punishment and potential destination?

Was it profane when Southerners for generations referred to the black race as “niggers?” (I even did it as a little kid. “Eeny-meeny-miney-moe, catch a nigger by his toe.” I was surprised when it was rewritten a few years later, and “nigger” was replaced with “tiger.” Nowadays I wonder if PETA would object to us tugging on the toes of tigers. Is that profane?)

Is it profane to sit in a health class with junior high school students and tell them about the vagina, the penis and explain the power of masturbation?

In speaking forth the level of disgust for something we don’t care about, is it all right to say, “Don’t give a shit?” Or should we change it to “don’t give a bumble-bee?”

I just really don’t know anymore.

When I was much younger, you weren’t allowed to say “God.”

Now we live in a world of “OMG.”

Somebody once corrected me for using the word “crap.” When I asked how they would finish the phrase “I don’t give a…” they piously offered the word “hoot.”

We know why we use profane words.

We know how this ceases to make them profane.

There are times when what we are saying is more important than being proper in our wording.

It’s why the word “ain’t” hangs around—for just the right slang moment.

Here are the five curse words or phrases I think should be eliminated:

  1. You will never…

That is pronouncing a curse on someone by limiting their possibilities.

  1. You are just like…

That is cursing someone with an identity they may very well be trying to escape.

  1. If you don’t believe, you can’t be saved.

Maybe I would believe if I saw that your belief did anything positive for you.

  1. You’re just a…

Anything that follows that phrase is a curse to limit the person you are speaking with, to a very small corner in a very tiny world.

  1. I don’t forgive you.

There is the ultimate curse.

So there are my curse words.

What in the fuck do you think?

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Culottes

Culottes: (n) women’s trousers, usually knee-length or calf-length, cut full to resemble a skirt.

I have seen enough things come and go, enough rules altered–opinions ransacked by reality—that I can no longer abide just accepting a set of regulations without asking why.

In my lifetime, I was informed that long hair was effeminate.

I was told that divorce was forbidden.

Masturbation was considered to be a sin.

Dating between the races was anti-Christ.

And one summer, Camp Jesus Something-Or-Other refused to allow the girls to wear culottes.

It was absolutely ridiculous.

None of the boys objected to the restriction, because girls in skirts would be running, sitting oddly and the fellows would get a great vision of their panties, which would last until the next time they were alone in their sleeping bags.

Everybody—and I mean, everybody—knew the rule was bullshit.

Even when the counselors were asked why the stipulation was in place, they parroted off some answer given to them by the founders of the camp (which they didn’t believe).

I comprehend the process. For instance, for ten years we had to whisper that we “passed gas” instead of bluntly saying we farted.

You could talk about dating and love, but you weren’t allowed to mention sex. That is, until you suddenly were permitted.

Can we shorten this agonizing delay?

Matter of fact, let us decide that if there isn’t a legitimate health, well-being or realistic moral reason for a guideline to exist, we will call it meaningless and request that it be reviewed.

Once and for all, can we come to a conclusion that sanctifying our race by trying to corral human emotions is fruitless?

Culottes look good on girls. They make girls more comfortable. And the only time a girl wears pants and looks like a man is if she decides she wants to go for the whole butch persona.

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Crave

 Crave: (v) to long for

I am very familiar with three great cravings.

They are not unique to me nor can they be labeled by the simple titles “good and evil.” But I know that all three of these have, do and funny wisdom on words that begin with a Cprobably will wiggle their way into my thinking and manifest themselves as desires.

The trouble is, each craving demands that I take on a certain responsibility. Or maybe “responsibility” is over-spoken. It’s actually more like a chore.

1. I crave orgasm.

It feels good. It’s a pleasant burst. There’s just enough unpredictable about it that each encounter possesses uniqueness. It is a few brief seconds when I no longer care that I am human, and I allow all the animal stoked deep inside me to roar.

With this craving comes a chore. It’s called sex. Although we insist that sex is pleasurable, it is actually the orgasm that brings the ecstasy, and to achieve that we go through the practice, interaction, danger and mediocrity of sexual relations with another person.

This certainly is why masturbation is so popular.

2. I crave companionship.

The chore that comes with this particular quest is people.

Yes, unless I plan on having just dogs, cats and miscellaneous domesticated animals surrounding me, unable to carry on conversations, I will have to learn, understand and tolerate the actions of other Homo Sapiens.

The payoff is great, but the process is—well, shall we say, unending.

3. I crave immortality.

The chore with this, if you will, is dealing with God.

There is no evidence that I possess any likelihood of longevity beyond a century without a belief in an eternal home.

God becomes problematic.

He is so loving that He includes fools, religionists, shysters and the most boring theologians ever conjured in a seminary.

In my craving for orgasm, companionship and immortality I must survive the chores of sex, people and God.

There are times when I wonder if it’s worth it.

There are occasions I wish to be free of the entanglements and the conditions brought on in satisfying my cravings.

But usually, a good nap, a meal or allowing my mind to be free of pressure makes me once again a willing participant in the pursuit of what I crave.


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Constipation

Constipation: (n) a condition in which there is difficulty in emptying the bowels

I want to ask those of you who are my friends to keep watch for the “thought police” and the politically correct lawyers as I try to discuss something very human without being critiqued for addressing a vulgar topic.

It is amazing to me what we are willing to talk about, which often is profane and nasty, as opposed to the things we are unwilling to talk funny wisdom on words that begin with a Cabout, which are human and common, but we have decided are uncouth.

There isn’t a person reading this who has not farted or had constipation, yet introducing the subject seems to make people uncomfortable. (The issue of human sexuality and masturbation are similar–things we like to do but don’t want to discuss.)

Everybody enjoys a good bowel movement. Matter of fact, I would guess that each and every one of you reading this article has turned a release of your innards into a religious experience by thanking God in some way during the evacuation.

If something so sacred as sitting on the pot is a taboo subject, then where is our race headed?

I have been constipated.

I have been unconstipated.

I can recommend the latter.

And if you don’t blush over your “Number 2,” then with me…you’re “Number 1.”

 

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Chaste

Chaste: (adj) abstaining from extramarital, or from all, sexual intercourse.

“To love, pure and chaste, from afar…”

‘Tis a lyric from the song, “Impossible Dream,” from The Man of La Mancha. Every time I see or hear it, I ask myself, why would anyone
want to do that?

I seem to be caught between two stubborn forces, possessing arrogant piety. Shall we refer to them as the Playboy and the Playgod crowds?

The Playgod crowd is convinced that sex is really a nasty thing and should not be implemented unless absolutely necessary for the procreation of children. Oh, every once in a while on a birthday or a holiday, you may wish to indulge. But overall, it’s a taboo subject, and certainly those who stand afar and chaste are admired for their grit.

Then there’s the Playboy philosophy, which is, “If it feels good, do it.” And if it doesn’t feel good, I have a book you may wish to purchase which may help you augment your experience.

The Playboy people mock the Playgod people as being sticks and prudes. The Playgod people have already envisioned and reserved a place in hell for those who find pleasure with genitalia.

Is there a time to be chaste?

We always need to remember that since sexuality involves two people, it is complicated by the emotions of the pair.

Maybe that’s the power of masturbation. Unless you have a predilection to argue with yourself or feel that part of you mistreated the other part during the experience, it’s pretty well over in just a few minutes.

I do not think that either the Playgod or the Playboy camps have figured out the best way to toast the marshmallows. They just have a bunch of rules dictated by individuals who are trying to be better than one another.

If I am to be chaste, it must be my decision, based upon a desire rather than intimidation or being rallied to open-mindedness.

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Burlesque

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Burlesque: (n) a variety show, typically including striptease.

There are certain words that evoke an immediate reaction–usually either shock or giggles.

It’s amazing to me that we actually become mature adults, but still insist on acting surprised or chuckling nervously about subjects that we think are “inappropriate.”

They are not unpleasant issues.

For instance, orgasm.

I would guess that if orgasms were put up for a vote in this country–pardon the expression, up or down–that people would cross party lines and even the Bible Belt would unbuckle.

Another word is masturbation.

I grew up in an era when it was considered to be evil, spent my adult years when it was perceived acceptable but taboo, and now you occasionally run across someone who actually speaks the word out loud in a conversation at Applebee’s.

It’s also true with the word burlesque.

Even though the shows involved comedians, jugglers, dancers and sometimes even animal acts, burlesque will always be remembered as a platform for strip-tease.

It’s amazing that even though each and every one of us do at least one or two strip-teases each day, we feel that it is gauche in front of footlights.

Well, I’m not connoting that I, myself, would attend a burlesque show to see such a strip-down performance, I just think it is humorous that we are so picky about what we deem unconscionable.

We let our children watch kids being poisoned by gas in Syria, but would be absolutely horrified if they ever saw a titty.

I don’t know what the right thing is. I certainly have grave misgivings about pornography.

But since the removal of clothing leads to one of three experiences–showering, sleeping or sexual intercourse–and I don’t find any one of those to be unpleasant, I will reserve my judgment on criticizing those who have the fortunate DNA of being attractive enough to stand and disrobe in front of the public.

 

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