Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" We'll bet that title perks your interest, eh?
The Johnson family vacation is an annual trek to St. Michaels, Maryland, now home to Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld. And oh boy, they are gonna fit in nicely.
We stay at a stately Bed and Breakfast with vast screened-in porches and a princely view of the Mighty Chesapeake from just about everywhere.
The B&B is run by a very nice lady who has six portraits of President Bush in her kitchen and who plays religious music at breakfast time. The music is so loud it's hard to concentrate on the Sean Hannity books in the library.
"So," you're saying, "Where's the sexual content in this post? Get it on!"
Proudly displayed on the breakfast nook, along with the Washington Times, is a magazine called New Man. It's a manly approach to ultra-Christian living, featuring manly men and their particular devotions.
Anne figured she might get some insight out of this glossy. Unfortunately, by the time she picked it up, someone had stolen the back issues. Doggone it. (And, you thief, you violated the Ten Commandments.)
A regular column in New Man appears to be "Ask the Sex Doc." And one of the questions was about that yucky "m" word that rhymes with "nation."
We don't mean the act. We mean the word. Sounds like something you'd do to caustic chemicals in a laboratory before bringing Frankenstein's monster to life.
We prefer the term "turtle dove love." Doesn't that sound so much more user-friendly?
Remember what Woody Allen said about TDL: "It's sex with someone I love."
Anyway, a New Man reader poses this question: "Is it OK to m****&etc. if I only think about my wife? I mean, what's the big deal as long as I fantasize about her?"
To which the sex doc replies: "Don't touch that thing, don't fantasize about anyone, if the wife's not handy for a roll in the hay, go do the laundry."
Okay, I paraphrased a little, but I'm hitting a bullseye on the jist.
The Sex Doc ended his diatribe against self-directed lust with the proclamation:"I am very healthy and have a strong sex drive, and I haven't m***&etc. in 18 years."
Now that's a straight quote. And by gum, you never know where you're gonna find a world record buried in text, huh guys?
The Sex Doc's picture runs with the column. He has perfect teeth but a slightly pained expression. His shirt collar is buttoned right up to his neck.
Do you wonder why there's so much pent-up anger out there in the megachurches?
Go ahead. Tell a 14-year-old boy that turtle dove love is a sin, he has to wait for marriage. Trust me, he'll want a semi-automatic weapon. Either that, or he'll rush down the aisle at 18 so he can ease the strain.
When I think of turtle dove love, I think of the 99,999 out of 100,000 men who indulge in it and save the world from unwanted children, bad marriages, and aggression.
That other one guy is twisted, and turtle dove love or no, he's gonna get in trouble.
Gals, I assume the Sex Doc's advice applies to you as well. Keep your hands on those dirty dishes, or dirty diapers, or dirty Venetian blinds. When you find yourself thinking about that rogue Johnny Depp, reach for your Bible, honey. Otherwise it's hell for you.
Sweet Blessed Mother, is this any way to live? No wonder so many men want to blast each other to smithereens.
We at "The Gods Are Bored" go on record as endorsing turtle dove love, with the fantasy that floats your boat. Especially if you're a teenager with a future and an intellect that's worth recording in upcoming gene pools.
Judging from his picture, the Sex Doc is about 40 years old. How he has gotten through 6,570 days without one little incident is anyone's guess. But hey. Some people just are determined to get into Guiness. Beats eating 1600 cockroaches, I guess.
Are you struggling to contain your urge to indulge in turtle dove love? Do you want to commit to a religion that will make you a whirling ball of combustible testosterone?
Subscribe to New Man Magazine now!
And I'm just curious: What are you doing on this site? Hands in the air, bad boy!
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LAUGHING THROUGH THE APOCALYPSE