You Are Sex


“You are what you think about all day long.” – Dr. Robert Schuller

Ah ha! You are “sex” right now, aren’t you? Naughty, and I like it.

I had no idea who this doctor was, so I Googled his clever butt and, lo and behold, he’s an evangelist. The masses respond: “Of course, he is.” He does the Hour of Power show, clogging televisions and minds across our great nation, especially the southeast quadrant. I doubt this octogenarian lectures people on this topic the way I would. His angle is to make people feel like misbehaving weaklings so he can exploit them. My angle is to tickle brain clits.

Speaking of clits, most of us think about sex often during the day, because we’re horny little fuckers. So what? It’s good for humanity. I think about sex continually (not continuously–there’s a difference) throughout the day. After brewing my double espresso this morning, I had coffee and marketing on the mind. I made a few posts, then pinned a few ditties on Pinterest–all sans boner. Then, I stumbled across a Pinterest board called Lesbian. Can I get an amen from men? Since 7 am isn’t too early for stiffness, I decided to take a gander. Side note: Doing so did not make me a lesbian.

Most of the pictures, while quite explicit, are done tastefully. Yet, one set left me scratching my larger head. Please allow me to pontificate.

People, hands do not belong in anuses. In fact, may I suggest that most hands won’t fit in most anuses, hence Nature’s hint they don’t fucking belong there. Furthermore, I suspect some Photoshoppage at work in these photographs and wonder if the graphic artist’s time would not be better spent making cool Facebook profile backgrounds.

As far as hands in vaginas go, let’s leave that to the experts, shall we? A hand belongs in the vagina if and when a baby needs fetching. Lord knows we don’t want that whole area contorted by a sideways tot. If the baby catcher needs to do alignment before extraction, this is acceptable, and a slender wrist should come in handy.

In my fifty-plus years, similar to a serving of Scotch, I don’t recall a woman asking for more than two fingers. This does remind me of a joke, though, which I shall share with my congregation:

“I want you to put another finger inside me.”

“All right. There you go.”

“Now, all five fingers.”

“Mm, hmm.”

“Ooh, yes. Put your whole hand in there.”

“Here ya go.”

“Now, I want you to put your other hand in there.”

“Really? OK.”

“Nice. Now, clap.”

“I can’t.”

“Tight, huh?”

Lord, I apologize to all those female readers who find my sense of humor to be senseless. Men, if you laugh at that joke it means you’re a joker.

People, please stop fisting each other. There are plenty of other things better suited for insertion, beginning with penises and ending with tubular toys that wiggle and hum. Perhaps we should open a rehab home for those hopelessly addicted to knuckle butt. I’ll get right on that. Now, stop thinking about sex and get to work.

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About the author

Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.