Good afternoon, wise reader! You've found "The Gods Are Bored," the blog where we sell no god before his time (and we think inclusive language is boring).
Today's topic is icky, ucky, and yucky. But it has to be addressed. So I'll begin with a little joke that makes the rounds in goat judge circles, particularly this time of year.
A father goat and a son goat stand in a pasture. Beyond the fence stand a bevvy of sexy lady goats, and every one of them in heat.
The son goat says: "Check it out, Dad. I'm gonna hop this damned fence and get some of that!"
The father goat says: "Check it out, Son. I'm gonna walk calmly through the gate and get every last one of them."
The bored gods have authorized me to spread a little wisdom today, but just be warned: It's wisdom, NOT doctrine. Because we could see a day, sometime in the future, when with every act of sexual intercourse it would be absolutely necessary to parent a child, just to maintain the earth's delicate balance.
Yeah, like we're all gonna be around on THAT day!
Today's topic is "Why Chippie Women Get Upset When They Find Their Husbands Masturbating."
Ewwwwww! Uck! Icky word! What a perfectly awful word! Do you think it's a coincidence that it rhymes with "castration"? Or what "W" and his Chippie Crusaders would have us be, a "blaster nation"? Don't ask me. I'm a goat judge, not a philologist.
I have evidence, both firsthand and anecdotal, that a great many fundamentalist Christian women sit around discussing their husbands' private acts. Which in itself should give you Promise Keepers pause. Hey, did you really think the little woman was praying at that Prayer Circle? Heck no! She's complaining about you!
After she's exhausted complaining about all the women in her Circle who happen to be home with the flu that day.
First, we need to find a new word for that Sin of Onan, so that it sounds less icky. After all, as the sage Woody Allen once pointed out, "it's sex with someone I love." So, let's call solitary sexual pleasure
TURTLE DOVE LOVE.
Chippie women are horrified to discover their husbands engaging in turtle dove love. I once heard one indignant church lady complain that she'd just accommodated her husband that morning, and here it was evening, and he was ... engaging in turtle dove love.
The response from the gathering was unanimous. What a sinner! Ought to go straight to Dobson about that! When is enough enough?
Girls, girls. Look at the joke above. Now let's analyze it. Bear with me, this might take awhile.
Men are horny. All the time.
Why? Well, you won't find the answer to this in your Bible. (Although you'll find some compelling examples of horny men who were also considered "wise" and/or "righteous.")
This is NOT because Yahweh, who made men in His image, is horny. It's because men can never EVER be sure their kids are their own.
Oh yeah, Sister Charity, he can lock you in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing a chastity belt. But when that baby comes out of your body, you're sure it has you in it. But hey, what if someone who looks just like your Promise Keeper got the key to that belt and took advantage?
Men can't ever be sure. Even if Junior looks just like them. Even if he gets hauled up before the magistrate on the same childish pranks that got the ol' dad in trouble 20 years ago.
Now, if you read the Bible, you'll just find that turtle dove love is "an abomination." But if you listen to the (sometimes fallible, sometimes changing) words of the bored gods, you'll get another story.
It's in the nature of a man to spread that seed around. Then he increases his chances that just a few of the lady goats will actually bear his kids. The man wants to maximize his exposure to the gene pool. Or at least his genes do. Sometimes his better sense overrides this impulse, and that's why we even have a group called the Promise Keepers.
So, you prayer circle gals, if you come upon the hubby and he's turtle dove lovin', maybe even looking at some pictures of pretty girls, you should be happy. Ecstatic, in fact. Because that means he's not out purchasing the services of a professional woman (or girl), and he's not sitting in a bar looking for a mistress. So chill out, Chippie! Your man is standing by you and the children he presumes to be his. Leave him alone, and for crying out loud, have the good taste not to bring up a topic like this at prayer circle! Eeeesh. Makes a nice druid girl like self want to come home and brush her teeth for an hour.
Now there are a few circumstances where a red flag might get raised. If hubby's choosing turtle dove love exclusively, even though you're a willing little she-goat, and looking super duper in that Spandex workout suit, you might want to call or write Dr. Phil. He's pretty good with that sort of thing.
The other red flag: If you happen upon hubby sitting at the computer, turtle doving away over a Web site called "Beefy Naked Sailors," then you have had the bad fortune to have wedded one of Dobson's reformed sinners. You just might have a few rocks in the road ahead. Be careful when you hire contractors that they're all old and ugly, because you sure don't want some cute college guy winking at the spouse while pruning the hedge.
To recapitulate: Girls, lighten up on the hard-working hubby who's trying his best to resist that urge to maximize his DNA in the next generation. Try to watch some more reality t.v., so you'll have something else to talk about at prayer circle.
Guys, if you want to turtle dove in peace, go behind a locked door. Because if she finds you, the whole mega-church will know. And while that shouldn't embarrass you at all (we have quite enough people on this rock, thank you), it surely will.
And to think. I don't even charge a fee for such good advice!
ANNE, WHO QUIT A PRAYER CIRCLE ... GUESS WHY?