I just read a riveting piece of information supplied by Zastava

It seems that apparently an individual in New York was playing a movie called ‘Chocolate Foam’ on the passenger side DVD player in his Mercedes. In case you had not figured it out on your own, this is not a movie about the delicious flavor of Hershey’s flavored milk, if you catch my drift.

Zastava poses the question; “Why, exactly, would one be watching porn going 65 on the freeway? And how would one, um, make use of said porno while cruising at those speeds?”

Well, I believe that I can field that one… You see, as a seasoned masturbator, I can tell you that the desire to smack it around will always, without fail, yield you the willpower to jerk off in any occasion. For years people have said that necessity is the mother of invention, which is half true, but in all honesty, the desire to masturbate is a MUCH more veritable force.

I guarantee you, if you put 24 male scientists and pathologists in a room, locked the door, and told them that NO ONE would be allowed to spank it until they made significant advances in the field of medicine, we would have a cure for cancer in like 9 days.

That reminds me of an interesting story. I had a friend named Courtney. Her mother was…how do I put this… to say the woman was crazy would be like calling the Atlantic ‘moist’. This woman was crazier than a shit house loon.

Anyhoo, her mother decided, as all good parents do, that her daughters rebellion was stemming from a lack of structure and discipline and decided to ship her off to a convent. She pulled one of those tricks where she acts like they are going out for coffee and inexplicably end up at Denver International Airport on a flight to someplace like Minnesota.

A few years later Courtney and I were talking about the experience. Apparently this convent was conveniently located in the exact center of what the Bureau of Land Management refers to as “No Fucking Where”. It was seriously a good 20 miles in every direction to the nearest ANY thing, so escape efforts, though they were regular occurrences, were never successful as the nun patrol picked your ass up about 9 miles out when they realized you failed to show up for whatever the hell you do all day in a convent…carve soap for all I know.

So, you’re getting the picture, no television, no fun, no escape. So, offhandedly I remarked, “Well, at least you have masturbation, they can never take that away from you!”

“Oh you think so?” she responded. Apparently the nuns not only watched you in the showers (Creeeeepy!) but they also posted watches at night to survey and identify and sort of repetitive movement, or Mac N’ Cheese stirring sounds, commonly associated with giving yourself the finger, as they say.

I was speechless. That does not happen often because I usually have SOMETHING wise ass to say to everything.

I honestly can say, with no lack of conviction, that if it was me in the same situation, I would not have made it. I would have lasted, maybe 19 hours or so before I just started spanking it, no matter where I was at the time. Nuns would be calling in the reinforcements to try and restrain me, it would be like that scene from X-Men where young Eric Lehnsherr/Magneto is being held back by the Nazi guards, except instead of trying to keep me from reaching out to my family, they would be trying to keep me from giving Big Jim and the Boys their daily beating.

There would be like 60 nuns all struggling in vain to keep me from going about my self gratification, until finally one would run up and clock me in the head with one of those big ass crucifixes.

Then, years later, the experience would cause me to become the evil X-Man, Jerk-neeto. My super power would be the ability to manipulate large amounts of flesh in the lower abdomen until ejaculation. I would come through the windows of teenagers and unsatisfied married individual packets of “Jergens’ Extra Moisturizing Lotion”.

We don’t need an hour of prayer in schools, or a mid afternoon nap at our places of employment, what we need is 20 minutes of ‘Beat Time’.