Part 26 of 30
I know you’re worked up, completely on edge, and ready to burst, And that’s partly my fault, egging you on as I have with the lascivious graphics -- raw sexuality -- all so inappropriate but designed the way you like 'em, as others have told me. None of this has been just me, except for me temporarily stooping to your level of perversion more or less to do you a favor. The good news for me is that after this month I'll get back to my normal life -- clean living, abstinence, and howling at the moon -- but you’re still going to be up to here in your perversity.
In a way -- you know something? -- that makes me happy. Because the straight and narrow doesn’t admit quite as many folks as does perversity. You have to be worthy. Whereas the randy, the brazen, the perverse, the dirty, filthy, nasty, and moist in the most unusual places abide there forever. Unhappily. Then ultimately die from judgment, and their dried out bones join the debris of their forebears who were also stuck in depravity. It saddens me that so many of my contemporaries are nothing but huge wash-outs, and now unfortunately that includes you. You made your bed and now you have to lie in it, goes the sad expression. But do you notice? No, you’re so begrizzled and wasted, mouth gaping, running after everything with two legs and a crotch -- which fortunately leaves out cattle -- you’re not even aware that’s an insult! So you don’t just lie in the muck, you repeatedly climb the heights and belly-flop into it! Disgusting.
The artwork of this gorgeous couple dancing does my heart good, to a point, before I had to add the captions. Which I had to do because I know what I’m up against. Perverts ogling everything in sight and your nasty catcalls, making insinuations that she and her dance partner -- a lifelong boy scout and she, coincidentally a lifelong girl scout -- have anything on their innocent minds but more innocence. What kind of lousy world do we have anyway, that the beautiful can’t be appreciated solely for their beauty, but instead there always has to be this lascivious innuendo, double entendres, and the taking of every innocent pose as the antecedent to something foul and disgusting?
You know it’s on your mind, and somewhere in your heart you know how disgusting it is, whether you admit it or not; we know it’s true. I can only hope that someday -- yes, in good time, you're going to get yours -- the walls will come crashing in, and as the world is literally closing in on you, pressing inexorably ever tighter and tighter, pinning you against the wall, your face smashed up against and formfitting a solid flat bulletproof pane of glass. At that point I will be outside the box and come by to poke fun at your misery, and if I can recall any of your lascivious comments over the years, yes, I will cast them back in your face.
“Wow, that's hot! How about a date tonight, sugar?” That’s to Cindy Lou of San Francisco. To Ralphie of New Orleans: “Looking for some beads by insinuating that honorable upstanding girls expose themselves to you, huh? Well, the beads on your forehead, of sweat, and your eyes bulging out from the heat of this glass case, are all the souvenirs I need. Up the thermostat, jailer!” And I have a few more cards that the various horn-dogs that infest my blog have sent in. I’ll just toss them in the bonfire on the lawn and hope even now your lives will go up in smoke for your brazen rudeness.
Some of you might not be too far gone and that's good. But you might have but one last chance. Avert your eyes from the woman’s beautiful dress. No, her butt isn’t that big, there’s ruffles under there which, no, you can’t see! If you have no respect for yourself, please show a little respect for this couple’s happiness. And zip your pants, boys. This is strictly a no nasty comments zone, as well as no public exposures!
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