Sunday, October 21, 2007

"I simply love aircraft carriers," gushed the lady naval astronaut Enterprisingly--Tom Swift and his electric vibrator


Back in the days when I was a weekly feature in a magazine hereabouts, I used to be charmed to find that just about all my readers were women, and they would say things like, "Yes. That is exactly the way I feel."

Most flattering.

What local Ovid wouldn't want an audience of lovelorn women?

This led to a teaching job in creative writing, and all the women came.

One had now to be careful of what one was saying. You were in a differeint medium now, the spoken word and the students might be copying down what you were saying.

For example:

Just for a joke I remarked that a video of New Guinea showed men with remarkably large penises.

There was a stir in the room.

"Ladies, ladies, I chided. "The boat for Port Moreseby doesn't leave till Tuesday."

Every night class has at least one clandestine faculty member and at least one mountie. You never know about those commie instructors.

I was hauled up on the carpet for the New Guinea remark.

Ah. Homeland security. It started a long time before 911.


Happily, the company finks weren't around when I'd hit a difficult episode in my life.

"I don't know what's wrong with the instructor tonight," I complained, gauging that my performance was less than exciting. I couldn't seem to set my students on fire.
"Maybe the instructor just needs to get laid."

Four hands went up.

Oh-oh. Power corrupts.


I have an unusual reationship with some women correspondents on this blog.

Say it on: Some want to get laid.

I think of a cartoon dialogue. A chicken is asking:" Do chickens get laid?"

"Certainly,' replied the wise old hen.

"Do people get laid?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because the're chicken."

Well, this here blogger is a chicken.

You never know what you're going to get. She might come by wearing a diaper, equipped with handcuffs and duct tape and a mind-f*cking you'll never forget.

Siting here in humble solitude watching dirty movies.

You are not a man, you are degenerate.

Ah, portrait of the artist as a young degeneratte.

Oh-oh. Something just came in.

"I simply love degenerates," some woman writes in.

What's a poor onanist to do?

.................

On a serious note, pick up Alannah Myles old video, "A song instead of a kiss" on YouTube.
I really did intend to offer you all you lady readers a kiss, but it seems to have come out in a bawdy song of mine.

13 comments:

Josie said...

Well, Ivan, you just managed to frighten away all your female friends who post here. None of them will want to be suspected of being the "correspondents who want to get laid." And you just may have insulted the ones who genuinely liked you.

Well, I am not interested in getting laid. I was just screwed, blued and tattooed, and that's enough for me, thank you very much. Heh.

I believe all of Ivan's friends have to pray to the God of Lost Causes.

Josie said...

The top part of my comment was cut off. I said "Well you just managed to..."

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Oh-oh.

ivan@cvreativewriting.ca said...

Josie,

Like somebody's grandmother, how do I know what I mean until I see what I've written?
I do believe I write for effect rathern than content.

Obviously, it's sometimes the wrong effect.
But, like the travelling salesman said, "trust me."

Josie said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
the walking man said...

Ivan whne you jack off catch it in a little cup and hurry it down to the local sperm bank as a superior sample of mental acuity and genius. The intellect of your DNA may be worth at least a carton of smokes and some mid shelf gin.

For God's sake man Onan wasn't cursed for pulling one or two off he was cursed for letting it hit the ground rather than his daughter in law, which in this day and age if worded right could be the next billion selling Rap song.

And Josie, you can post whatever the fuck you want at my spot and if your daughter doesn't like it, well I have no use for clean language towards morons who always appear like a virus where they are not wanted, we call that "Detroit Love"...just take me off your side bar, you know I don't keep my contacts in a side bar.

Peace

mark

now Ivan make sure the cups are at lest clean before you take your samples down to the sperm bank...wouldn't want anyone to think you're a one wall wonder now would we?

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Thanks, Walking Man.

I needed that.

I liked your "Looking for Weed" story now on your blog BTW.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Josie,

I refuse to be drawn into our first
"domestic".

I guess it shows that there is something there for sure, but...

Josie said...

Ivan, I think we have cleared that up???

No domestic dispute :-)

Inside our hands, outside our hearts said...

I am off to Scotland in the morn for 26 days... ciao everyone. It was a pleasure for the most part.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

All cleared up.

I put the comment in before your
e-explanation.

ivan@creativewritng.ca said...

Scotland. Brigadoon.

Come back and tell us how things are in Glocca Mora.

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