... down a hole.

 
 
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It's common knowledge that men think about sex, a lot.  That is, when we're not thinking about food, booze, money, power, respect, or engaging in random acts of kindness; all of which should attract more sex if done right. 

Alfred Kinsey, the famed biologist whom in the late 40's was spilling the beans about sexuality to a tight-ass puritanical society, found that the average man thinks about sex at least a few times a day. 

A FEW TIMES A DAY!?!  Ha.

You see, I like to think of myself as way above average, I'm extreme like that...hey, it keeps me going, SO BACK THE FUCK OFF! 

See what I mean?  Average people don't burst out like that *insert quip about my sanity here*, only great men do. 

The point is,  like all white children, I'm mostly gifted.

 If I ever fail to settle at the far right of the curve it probably has to do with the speed of my tennis serve, under-the-leg-behind-the-back slam dunks, pissing contests against horses, or not having a name that begins with a noun and ends in a roman numeral. 

But who gives a can of camel shit about that stuff anyway?

All I know is, when it comes to sexual thoughts, I ain't no regular Joe.  I probably think about sex and money as much as your average gangster rapper.  And being on the internet a large part of the day I'm constantly bombarded by images of women I'd like to bang, probably skewing my sex:thought ratio even further. 

Take Heidi Montag for example. 

She's an annoying, petty little koont schnauzer-- no doubt-- but that's precisely why I'd love to destroy her, sexually.  Besides, that tight little body beckons me with all the subtlety of heroin withdrawal. 

And no, 'getting some' won't lesson the craving. 

Was Alexander The Great satisfied after 'just one more territory?'  No.  He wanted the whole fucking thing.  And so do I!  I know, I know, in my dreams, shit. 

Let's get back to Montag. 

Since I doodled that damn limerick in the poem[z] section I can't stop thinking of filthy little rhymes every five  minutes either.  And since I pop a mind-boner every four an a half minutes, the rhymes are usually about 'places to put a boner.' 

So here she is, the latest place I'd like to put my mind-boner, complete with playground filth. 

::I refrained from the popular 'Speidi' reference; although phonetically appropriate, figuratively it would've been extremely homosexual, or at least bi, in a menage a trois sort-a-way; far too sophisticated for me at this stage of my tender development...         
                               
                             Ritzy Ditzy Heidi climbed on my waterspout.
                             On her mind was brain, so she took me in her mouth.
                             Out came her bum and it cried to have the same. 
                      So Ritzy Ditzy Heidi climbed on my spout again.
                                                                                -JPF
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Comments

shane

Sat, 04 Jul 2009 09:35:14

I cruised through your site, Wonderful and full of thoughts from a great mind. I have always believed in your talent to feed the ohters with words. This thought came to me as I was checking out your music. The song by Dami..Rice..sad melody,.. but true, that is, what it makes you feel while your listening to it. Alot of us have skills in the world, some use it just enough to get by and feed the soul, witch gives us some meaning and feeling of worth.. some use it in way to move mountains..Whats the differnce you ask? I dont believe there is one. I think every action is same, and every reaction is the same. That being, we all want to be loved, and admired. and that is the only reason we are here. Alexander the great and the likes, everyone from Hitler to your neighbor. The stronger their desire to be known..The more dangerous! things become. P.S..You should write a play, Seriously!!

 



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