* * *
-=[ The Odd Case of the Squeaking Vagina ]=-
The most perverse form of sexual deviancy is abstinence.
Ahhhh... the promise of Spring!
True, I become less focused, more prone to indulgence, and all other forms of ho’ing, but this time of year, with its connection to rebirth and beginnings, holds so much attraction for me. With the exception of Yvette, the third on the list of Rosarios, we were all born in the Spring. In fact, my mother actually gave birth to three Gemini sons, and Darlene, the second oldest (I’m the oldest), barely missed it, her birthday falling on May 17th. In our youth, our combined birthdays became an excuse for constant partying, since our birthdays fall on consecutive weeks, culminating with mine on June 6th (hint: please don’t buy gifts, but anonymous, edgy sex is always welcome! -- females need only apply, thank you.).
Today the temperature threatens to hover near the 70s and as the temperature rises, the clothing covering the skin of the beautiful women of New York decreases. I swear: I can almost smell the shaving cream as scantily clad wenches pass me by, the hint of a grin on their smug and pretty faces. Yeah, you know how to hurt a guy! And yes I’m single, but you know how that goes: I could be starving to death and not one maiden would pay me any mind -- more than likely she would step over, or around, my body on their way to work without giving more than a cursory look. Of course, let me find a girlfriend and they’ll be all over me like the proverbial white on rice. Perhaps I should revert to wearing a wedding ring, that always works. ::snicker::
Okay! My topic today? The consequence of the sexual deviance known as abstinence. First, I have to give props to the ladies who have developed the resolve not to give in to the erotic impulse (at great personal sacrifice, of course). Well, at least that’s what women like to say, you never know the real deal, but I’ve observed women I know taking a more assertive stance on the sex issue and I applaud you for that (yeah, right: blah blah blah).
I think we’ve all heard by now of the seven-year government study that actually showed that teens who pledge abstinence (or who are exposed to abstinence-only sex courses) not only get the same amount of STDs as other teens, but are six times more likely to engage in oral sex, and the boys are four times more likely to get anal action.
Dang!
I guess, depending from what perspective one looks at it, this is either a great argument for or against abstinence-only sex education. I mean, I wish the Christian fanatics campaigning for such programs would’ve been more effective when I was in high school! I wasn’t getting any anal action from the girls back then.
Great idea, by the way: tell teens not to fuck and keep them ignorant about sex. I will tell you this, while I was in my 20s I dated a young lady who claimed to be a virgin but she was really OK with oral sex and eventually anal sex with me. She wanted to keep her hymen intact for her wedding night, she would proudly beam. I stayed with her for a lonnnnng time…
On another note, there is an unintended consequence for adult women practicing sexual abstinence: a huge spike in a little known disease that affects only adult women, vaginal atrophia. Yes, you read that correctly: vaginal atrophia. This is a degenerative affliction in which women’s’ genitalia atrophy from consistent lack of proper use.
Dr. Hughes Yurdaedy, lead investigator for a top government research agency says, “It’s unfortunate, but one of the consequences of prolonged sexual abstinence for adult women is that they lose vital functioning in their vagina which has led to what could be a very embarrassing symptom: vaginal squeaking.”
Another leading authority in the field, Dr. Yah Tah-Oosa, a researcher from Taiwan, explains, “It’s the age-old truism: if you don’t use it, you lose it.” She explains further, “The reason vaginal squeaking has become more prevalent today, is that women mistake the use erotic toys as an adequate substitute for penile penetration when in fact, our research shows that masturbation actually exacerbates the squeaking” (emphasis added).
Fuck?!! Squeaking vagina?!! At first I was somewhat skeptical but upon further reflection, I’ve actually heard vaginas squeak, but I thought I was mistaken or experiencing auditory hallucinations. The other day, a woman was hurrying by me, squeaking like a rusty bike and when I stared at her, she affected an indignant look, staring pointedly at my shoes (as if they were to blame), but my shoes don’t squeak, ma'am, thank you very much.
A good friend called me the other day despondent over her squeaking. She was a little embarrassed at first, but since she knows I keep up to date on cutting-edge medical journals, she confided: “It’s gotten to the point where it’s becoming unmanageable,” she told me between sobs. “Just the other day, a group of high school kids followed me half way down the block chanting, “Squeaky! Squeaky! Squeaky!”
Another friend related her tragedy: her new boyfriend left her because he was turned off by the sound her legs made when he attempted to spread-eagle her, “He said I sounded like a rusty gate!” she cried. I just didn’t have any words of consolation for her.
Well, boys and girls, I guess the moral of the story, if there’s any moral to be had here at all, is that perhaps white Jesus is getting even with us for denying and repressing something that is part of our divine essence, part of our human legacy: being sexual creatures.
Have a great weekend and please (!!) do something about that squeaking!
Love,
Eddie
* * *
-=[ Thinking Allowed ]=-
Or: Thinking Aloud
Quick! Stash away your brain. Yes, you know that gelatinous matter between your ears? I know you don’t use most of it (the unused 90% is higher for teabaggers). However, the editors here at the [un]Common Sense Blog have discovered that your brain is illegal. The U.S. government has criminalized the chemical compounds of peyote, even though one of them, dopamine, is a primary neural transmitter in the human brain. Our brains also produce anandamide, a substance that’s nearly identical to THC, the active ingredient in marijuana.
::watches disdainfully as some fools set their brains on fire::
So much for the “they hate us and our freedoms” view of Islam. According to my computations (not really) more than 1.2 billion Muslims live under democratically elected governments, and there is a steady movement towards democratization, civil rights, and political freedom in many other Islamic nations (click here for source).
And this here from our “Good News/ Bad News” department: The U.S. Air force has complied with the Environmental Protection Agency’s ban on ozone-destroying chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs). It has removed CFCs from the cooling systems of ballistic missiles that carry nuclear warheads. “If they are ever fired,” Access to Energy reported, “there will be an environmentally friendly nuclear holocaust.”
At last! A man I can admire. A blind German clairvoyant named Ulf Buck claims he can foretell people’s future by feeling their naked buttocks. I’ve been trying to tell women this all my adult life! Believe me, if I can feel your naked buttocks, sweetie, I will definitely be able to tell your immediate future (“I see you experiencing a refreshing soreness and deeply felt sense of surrender in the near future.”)
From our historical department comes the following gem: The first humans to arrive in Hawaii were led by “wayfinders.” These miracle workers navigated uncharted seas by reading star positions, discerning weather patterns, and interpreting the ocean’s colors and movements. Shoot, I know some families can’t make it to Disney world with a map without killing each other along the way! More than seven centuries before a few European men dared to sail beyond the safe boundaries of their known world, entire Polynesian families crossed the vast expanses of the Pacific Ocean in, yup, catamarans.
I’ve been reading again, folks. Yup. In his book The Naked Woman, best-selling author/ biologist Desmond Morris (The Naked Ape), takes us beyond the G-spot. He says that in addition to the G-spot, women have three other highly sensitive erotic zones in the vagina. He calls them the A-Spot, C-Spot, and U-Spot (more to come at a later sex blog).
From our “subversive acts” files: a few years ago, members of the Barbie Liberation Organization sneaked into toy stores and swapped the voice boxes of 300 GI Joe and Barbie Dolls. Boys who later purchased the plastic soldiers were shocked to hear the toys make comments such as, “I like to go shopping with you,” while the girls who came to own the mutated Barbies heard commands like, “to the front lines, men!” (click here to view video)
Finally, our crack research team (really a Dominicana with a great ass!) came up with the following morsel: In her book, A Natural History of the Senses, Diane Ackerman observes that in many cultures the word for kiss means smell. “A kiss is really a prolonged smelling of one’s beloved, relative, or friend,” she writes. “Members of a tribe in New Guinea said good-bye by putting a hand in each other’s armpit, withdrawing it, and stroking it over themselves, thus becoming coated with the friend’s scent. Other cultures sniff each other or rub noses.” Now, before you get all culturally myopic on me, please note that my preferred manner is to put my hand in the crack of your ass while I’m kissing you and then smelling my hand.
I lurrrrve the baby powder!
Love,
Eddie
* * *
-=[ A Birthday Wish ]=-
Okay. One day, I’m sitting down reading a good book, minding my own business when I gradually become aware of sucking and slobbering noises and when I look, it’s my sister’s dog steady licking his dick. I mean, he was sucking that shit! He’s so into it, that the sounds he’s making are distracting, so I yell at the fuckin mutt, “Sly! Stop that you nasty muthafucka!”
The dog looked at me with such a face of poor disgust that I had to laugh. Of course, he went right back to slobbering on his fuckin dick.
And that got me to thinking… Ladies? If I could suck my own dick, I would have nothing to say any of you. And please. No practicing without a license, no fuckin amateur analyzing. Sucking my own dick has nothing to do with homoerotic wish fulfillment. It’s sucking my own dick, not Joe Knechbone’s. Sucking my own dick would be monosexual, or autoeroticism, or some shit like that. I guess.
Whatever!
If I could suck my own dick, I wouldn’t even leave my apartment. I would give you ladies no convo. And if I did, I would be vindictive and fucked up about being able to suck my own dick. If you gave me too much lip, or too much of a hard time, for example, I would suck my own dick right in front of you just to show that I don’t need you to suck my dick. Like, it would be my way to show you you’re obsolete.
LMAOOOO!
Go ahead, argue with me, put the poosie on lockdown, make my day...
Anyway, that’s my birthday wish this year!
Love,
Eddie
* * *
-=[ The Curious Case of the Squeaky Vaginas ]=-
The most perverse form of sexual deviancy is abstinence.
I love Spring!
True, I become less focused, more prone to indulgence, and all other forms of “ho’ hopping,” but this time of year, with its symbolism of rebirth and beginnings, holds so much attraction for me. It doesn’t hurt that I was born during the spring season, with my birthday falling on June 6th (hint: please don’t buy gifts, but anonymous, edgy sex is always welcome! – females need only apply, thank you).
This brings me to my topic today, namely sexual abstinence and its consequences. But before I get there, I must digress just a little. As much as I love to complain about winter, there is something to be said about living in a temperate zone and the changing of the seasons. You see, as hedonistic as I’m prone to be in warm and hot weather, I probably would not last in a tropical zone, where I would most likely try to literally fuck my brains out. Shit, all there has to be here is a hint of warm weather and the women come out in full force, showcasing their “assets” after a long hard winter.
Sheeesh! Youse guys are mean!
Whatever… things have gotten so hectic and the clothing so scarce these days, that I can swear I can almost smell the shaving cream as scantily clad wenches pass me by, the hint of a grin on their smug and pretty faces. Yeah, you know how to hurt a guy. And yes I’m single, but you know how that goes: I could be starving to death and not one maiden would pay me any mind -- more than likely women would step over, or around, my body on their way to work without giving more than a cursory look. Of course, let me get a girlfriend and they’ll be all over me like the proverbial white on rice! Shoot, I should revert to wearing a wedding ring, that always works.
Okay, to our topic today: sexual abstinence and its consequences. First, I have to give some props to the ladies in that have kept to the resolve not to give in to the erotic impulse (at great cost, of course). Well, at least that’s what women like to say, you never know the real deal, but I’ve observed the women I know taking a more assertive stance on the sex issue and I applaud you all for that (yeah, right).
I think we’ve all heard by now of the seven-year government study that showed that teens who pledge abstinence (or who take abstinence only sex courses) not only get the same amount of STDs as other teens, but are six times more likely to engage in oral sex, and the boys are four times more likely to get anal action.
Dang! I guess, depending from what perspective one looks at it, this is either a great argument for or against abstinence-only sex education. I mean, I wish the Christian zealots championing such programs would’ve been more effective when I was in school! I wasn’t getting any anal action from the girls while in high school.
Great idea, by the way: tell teens not to fuck! LMAO! I will tell you this, while I was in my 20s I dated a young lady who claimed to be a virgin and she was really ok with oral sex and eventually anal sex. She wanted to keep her “hymen intact” for her wedding night, she would beam. I stayed with her for a lonnnnng time...
On another note, there is an unintended consequence for adult women practicing sexual abstinence: a huge spike in a little known disease that affects only adult women, vaginal arthritis. Yes, you read correctly: vaginal arthritis. This is a degenerative affliction in which women’s’ genitalia atrophy from consistent lack of proper use.
Dr. Hughes Jour-Daeddy, lead investigator for a top government research arm says, “It’s unfortunate, but one of the consequences of prolonged sexual abstinence for adult women is that they lose vital functioning around their vaginal area which has led to what could be a very embarrassing symptom: vaginas that squeak.”
Another authority in the field, Dr. Yah EsTah-Oosa, a researcher from
Fuck! Squeaking vaginas?!!
But, come to think of it, I’ve actually heard vaginas squeak, but I thought I was suffering from auditory hallucinations. The other day, a woman was hurrying by me and she was squeaking like the proverbial screen door and when I stared at her, she tried to affect an indignant look, trying to place the blame on my shoes, but my shoes don’t squeak, thank you very much.
A good friend called me the other day despondent over her squeaking. She was a little embarrassed at first, but since she knows I keep up to date on cutting edge medical findings on human sexuality, she confided: “It’s gotten to the point where it’s becoming unmanageable,” she told me between sobs. “Just the other day, a group of high school kids followed me half way down the block calling me ‘Squeaky’!”
Another friend related her tragedy: her new boyfriend left her because he was totally turned off by the sound her legs made when he attempted to spread-eagle her, “He said I sounded like a rusty gate!” she cried. I just didn’t have any words of consolation for her.
Well, boys and girls, I guess the moral of the story (if there’s any moral to be had here at all) is that perhaps God is getting even with us for denying and repressing something that is part of our essence, part of our human legacy: being sexual creatures.
Ladies: Please do all of us a favor and make an appointment for sex... soon!
Love,
Eddie
* * *
-=[ Hard Times ]=-
Times are hard and today too many of my friends and loved ones face brutal challenges. I don’t think there is any humor in this, nor will I attempt to offer some “power of positive thinking” bullshit crap cliché. Times are tough... Period.
Me telling you to “keep your head up,” or not to worry because “it will be OK,” would be arrogant, insulting, and unfeeling. The truth is I don’t know if it will get better, nor will I presume keeping your head up will make your situation more bearable, and I really I don’t know how you feel. I guess what I’m getting at is what do you say when in reality there isn’t much to say? How do you tell, for example, a parent who just buried her child that “it will get better”? Or what the fuck does “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle” mean?
Sometimes, I swear... people say the dumbest things.
I think the best you can do for someone experiencing difficulty is to be present with them. Just being there, willing to listen without attempting to make things better, often works wonders. Sometimes people just want to know that you’re there with them, witnessing along with them. In the midst of hard times, we oftentimes wonder if our perceptions are valid. It sometimes helps to have someone there with you, saying, “Yeah, this shit is fucked up!” Go ahead, embrace that sadness, own up to the frustration, it 's OK. You are going through a rough patch.
Outside of giving them a job, there really isn’t much you can tell someone who’s unemployed that would make them feel better. I’m almost certain they’ve already heard the “keep your head up” exhortation literally dozens of times.
I remember being unemployed for over a stretch of 18 months. I was rejected so many times it wasn’t funny. My self-esteem was at an all-time low, and believe me, I’ve been through more shit than most people can claim. I’m not saying that my experiences somehow make me more unique than you, I’m simply pointing out the truth of a life lived on the margins and the resulting wreckage and collateral consequences.
I remember one interview that I thought I had nailed. It was actually quite funny in retrospect. I interviewed for a non-profit and the executive director (an African American) and the supervisor (obviously a New York Puerto Rican) were women.
I arrived about 15 minutes early, anxious, and nervous -- I really wanted this position. Anyway, I announced myself to the receptionist and then went to the men’s room to urinate.
Finally, it was time for the interview. We sat in a conference room with the supervisor sitting across from me, and the ED sitting next to me. After some preliminary remarks and introductions, the interview began in earnest and I was kicking some ass. I mean, I knew I was hitting home-runs. I even caught my potential supervisor nodding in the affirmative to the ED. But the ED didn’t seem to be convinced, she kept asking more questions, and her body language was off. She didn’t face me, nor look me in the eye, and it seemed as if something about was troubling her.
Not one to give up, I kept firing away and the supervisor was practically doing cheerleader routines in response to my answers. But the ED, I could tell, was unconvinced. For some reason I couldn’t figure out, she apparently didn’t see me as an apt candidate.
Finally, the interview was over and I was left with the sense that I had one-half of the team sold. I stood up, shook hands all around, and took my leave. I remember that it was a cool, brisk March day that day because the moment I stepped outside I felt a cool breeze around my groin area. When I looked down, I realized that in my anxiety, I forgot to zip my zipper after using the restroom and had done the whole interview with my fly completely open. To compound matters, because I had no clean underwear (no money for laundry) I hadn’t worn any that day.
So my cock had to have been in full view throughout the interview!
I realized that’s why I had such a different effect on the two women. The supervisor sat across from me and was therefore shielded from my crotch area by the table, while the ED, who sat next to me, was treated to various perspectives of the one-eyed-blind-snake-that-sometimes-spits.
LMAO!!! I had to stop in the middle of the street I was laughing so hard. I wasn’t offered the job, though the ED called me a day later and asked if I would interview for a different (part time) position. I said I was interested, but she never called back.
But in typical Eddie fashion, this isn’t the end of the story. Many years later, I began a new exciting position and invited to meet the board members. Guess who was one of the board members? LOL! Yup! It was that ED. I saw her face and I prayed she wouldn’t recognize me, but she came over and, sure enough, she remembered that I interviewed for her once. JesusFuckinCherrrrrist!
The moral of the story? Well, I guess outside of making sure your genitals aren't on show before an important job interview, I can’t think of anything else. Or maybe your mother's admonition to always wear clean underwear has some value...
Here’s wishing you all the best, and if you ever need someone to stand there with you, may you have friends who know and appreciate the importance of listening (or at least a funny story to share).
Love,
Eddie
* * *
-=[ Hannity Fights Back ]=-
I contend that the internal threat of liberalism may be even worse than the external threat of terrorism -- for the terrorists have no prayer against us unless the liberals pave their way.
-- Sean "[in]Sannity" Hannity in Conservative Victory
Since the people here at [un]Common Sense have seen fit to take a few swings at me over the years, I accepted their invitation to respond.
What I found most disturbing has been this blog’s attempt to imply that I’m a cocksucker. I should sue, but instead I’ll clear this up: I’m what’s known as a selective serial fellator, meaning I only suck the cocks of media alpha dogs. I say with pride that I suck Murdoch’s cock and gargle his sperm. There’s a huge difference between being a mere cocksucker and a selective serial fellator and calling me the former is just sloppy reporting and bad form.
This blog has also implied that listening to me is somehow an act of evil. This is ridiculous nonsense. While it is true that I am a compulsive liar, on and off the air, steal money from widows and orphans, and generally disdain for poor people as well as darker-hued humans, does it follow that these are evil traits?!!
::blank stare::
And yes, I do spend tons of money at S&M clubs (thanks Steele!); and, yes, I do go prowling for faggots with Bill O’Reilly, Rush, and then we all pile into Bill’s jeep, round up queers and waterboard them in back-alley dungeons, but calling me evil is quite an exaggeration, don’t you think? Nice try, Eddie, but nobody is buying your nonsense.
Seriously, imagine if some straight-laced, latently homosexual businessman, who has been successfully conditioned by years of my programming, happens to read your pathetically puerile attempts at humor. Think of the consequences! For one thing, he may stop accepting overly simplistic, nonsensical explanations of how this world works. He may even conclude I’m a fat, dishonest, bullying little twat willing to say anything in the service of my wealthy masters, and actually try to ice my craven ass. Furthermore, imagine if this information was spread around widely. Do you really want the chaos that would result from so many of the sheeple thinking without my help?
Finally, I’ll leave you with the following... the treatment I’ve received from this blog is a perfect example why we must resist the free dissemination of ideas and reject information sources that don’t have the good sense to be owned by multinational corporations.
Yours truly,
Sean
* not really
It’s all in fun.
Also, I can take as good as I give. In fact, in the scope of things, I could hardly give a rat’s ass who wins; the fun is in the messin' around.
If you don’t like my way of having fun, you have several options: you can stop associating with me, which is fine -- really. Alternatively, you can send me a private note or take me to the side and express your unwillingness to engage me in such a way, or, alternatively, you can choose to engage me. What you cannot do is act like a fool and not expect me to rent space (free) in yo ignant lil head. Love me or leave me, I refuse to compassionately engage the various complexes stemming from your lack of proper upbringing, masculine insecurities, or the consequences of your abandonment issues, narcissistic parents, or any lingering traumatic issues you still carry from previous relationships. I am not the one.
::smooches::
* * *
-=[ The Caress ]=-
The following was inspired by a real person...
She felt like everything good and wholesome. Like the first warm breeze of spring and the refreshing taste of lemonade on a summer’s eve, the crisp autumn air promising change and the first snowball fight when you’re a kid. Her body was soft and full of promise and her grip strong and her heart beat rapidly against my chest. I could smell her shampoo as I breathed in her essence -- felt her downy hair…
* * *
Love,
Eddie
* * *
-[ Rambling Man ]=-
Surrender
“Make me one with everything,” the Buddhist monk instructed to a hot dog vendor.”
The vendor went on to make a frank with mustard, relish, ketchup, and onions, and the monk took it, giving the vendor a $20 bill.
The vendor quickly stashed the bill into his apron and then turned his attention to the next customer.
“But where’s my change?” asked the perplexed monk.
“Change must come from within, my friend,” replied the vendor.
I got the following from something I was reading somewhere, I forget where because I didn’t take notes. But since my Monkey Mind decided for me that it was worthwhile information, I’ll repeat it here. Any mistakes or drastic changes to your personality are not my fault.
Do this for today: take an inventory of the extent to which your “no reflex” dominates your life. Just take notice for 24 hours how often you say or think:
No
I don’t like them
I don’t agree with that
They don’t like me
That should be different from what it is
Then retrain yourself to say “Yes” at least 51% of the time. Start your transformation now by saying “Yes!” to the thought of having recipient anal sex with me (if you’re a female of legal consent).
I was reflecting the other day how the factor most likely to drive and keep us in addiction is spiritual poverty -- or a lack of spiritual intimacy. Yeah, and this is true of you Jesus freaks too! LOL For my purposes, I define spirituality in very broad terms. Spirituality comes from the root word meaning to breathe. And that is something we all share. We all breathe in the gases in this little biosphere and that is what keeps us all alive. It is the one thing we all share. So, I define spirituality not as a belief system, but as the evolving awareness of the interconnectedness of all things.
Culturally we have separated ourselves from one another and we do so at great risk. We can no longer live by the illusion that we are separate from our ecology or each other, for example, because that kind of thinking is killing us. This spiritual intimacy has nothing to do with Jesus, or Allah, or the newer, improved messiah -- the Nuyorican who lived in the lower east side and died crucified on a syringe. No, this spiritual intimacy is about cultivating the deep awareness of how we are all connected -- even our breath. This is why all the great spiritual technologies often focus on the breath as a way to develop a higher consciousness...
Practice noticing your breath at least 5-10 minutes a day. If you think watching your breath is boring, please feel free to come to me and I’ll gladly deprive you of it for about a minute and you’ll soon discover how not boring breathing is!
Some people feel dirty watching porn; others when they eat junk food or swallow my semen. For my own purposes, I feel a profound sense of violation when I’m exposed to “Reality TV.” And yet I also know that trying to be too fuckin’ pure can be a bitch. So I’m proposing that every once in a while form a revolution against trying to be wholly pure and perfect. That shit will kill you, believe me. Start by throwing away antibacterial soap -- it doesn’t work, and you need bacteria in your life anyway, asshole!
If I ever wrote a self-help book, it would be called “Beyond Help.” Some of the chapter headings would include:
How not to get everything you want
If you stop playing me too close, I might give you want you want, muthafucka
How not to influence people and thus be released from the need to control EveryFuckinThing
Be careful what you wish for because it might change you in ways you are not prepared
I don’t think it would sell too well, but it damn sure would be fun! LOL
Well, that’s it for today -- a tiny glimpse into the madness of my Monkey Mind. Be sure to say “yes!” a few times today, especially if I call you to propose to insert “something” into your anus.
Love,
Eddie
Class: I'm sure you're aware many celebrities and personalities use Twitter. I have several twitter accounts--one which is highly classified and secret--the one I use with my celeb buds. Class: I'm sure you're aware many celebrities and personalities use Twitter. I have several twitter accounts--one which is highly classified and secret--the one I use with my celeb buds.
¡Hola! Everybody…
I’m going out to a couple of museums today. It’s raining, so the beach is out as is Six Flags. But if the weather allows, I’ll be at Six Flags tomorrow. I’m on vacation, biatches! LOL
* * *
-=[ Penis/ Labia Holding and Conflict Resolution ]=-
OK! I know I should leave well enough alone, but I can’t! LOL!
In light of the Rippa/ Cosmic “reconciliation” I propose the following (taken from one of my blogs, which was taken from somewhere else, I forget):
Among the Walbiri and Aranda people, when different communities get together or when grievances need to be settled, the men participate in what is known as touch-penis, penis-holding, or penis-offering rite. Each man presents his semi erect penis to all the others, pressing it into each man’s palm and drawing it along the length of the upturned hand.
By offering and grasping each other’s penis -- said to represent “paying with one’s life” – the men make a vow of support and fellowship between them, or solidify whatever agreement they have reached during the settling of the dispute.
I dunno, but it would be pretty hard to fight someone after you’ve held their dick in your hands! LMAO! Can you imagine me, Stiffy, Rip, Mo, Neddy, and Cosmic standing in a circle holding each other’s pricks?!!
And what if you renege on the settlement?
What then?
Can just hear Rippa tell Cosmic, “Tony, after you held my prick in your hands, how could you do something like that?!!”
I propose that women should have a similar ritual. Perhaps all the women with beef (pun intended) on 360 and The 'Ply should all stand in a circle and grab on to each other’s labia! Of maybe they can stand in a circle, stick their fingers in the hole, and make a vow of cooperation and support!
In fact, I pronounce today “Conflict Resolution Day” and will willingly hold any woman's labia in my hand if she'll hold my penis!
LMPRAOOO!
Love,
Eddie
