Wednesday, May 07, 2014
A ghostly experience
A married woman who claims she had sex with a ghost has appeared on British TV:
“I couldn't see anybody but I could feel the pressure, the energy, the warmth pushing in different directions,” said Natasha Blasick, a lissom young brunette. “The first time I was very confused by all of that but then I just decided to relax and it was really, really pleasurable.”
This confession was received with the utmost sympathy by the folks in TV-land, who never thought to inquire whether Natasha had felt any guilt over her adulterous liaison. Everyone seemed to assume that being with a ghost was an exceptional situation that entitled her to behave like a hoochie.
One has to pity her husband, of course. It’s unlikely that being cuckolded by a ghost is grounds for divorce, and he’s probably afraid of being haunted if he makes a fuss. He’s in a similar position to Uriah the Hittite after King David had his way with Bathsheba. May the Lord protect him in his tribulation and woe.
On the other hand, it’s quite possible that Natasha imagined the whole thing. I’ve heard stories about women getting sexually aroused by electromagnetic fields or fungal spores. In my view, her husband would be well within his rights to jump on top of her the next time she has one of her ghostly episodes. If a man can’t give his wife a good seeing to while she’s fantasising about being ravished by a spectre, he may as well shave his head and become a Buddhist monk.
Perhaps we should all be thankful that this ghost, if it exists, is just a horny rascal with a taste for hot brunettes. One that modelled itself on Jack the Ripper doesn’t bear thinking about. I’ll never forget how disturbed I was by the opening scene of Unforgiven, the Oscar-winning western starring Clint Eastwood (“He who befriended the orang-utan”, as he is known in the jungle). Those who have seen the movie will recall that a cowboy slashes a prostitute with a knife for giggling at his tiny todger. After watching the film, I immediately phoned my friend Smacker Ramrod to ask whether the cowboy’s grievance had any legitimacy.
“None whatsoever!” he declared emphatically. “Loads of women have chortled at my John-Thomas and it never bothered me in the slightest. When a woman laughs at something, she’s a hair’s breadth away from petting it like a poodle. I would often make self-deprecatory remarks about my dick to encourage a few titters. It’s when they react with horror or disgust that you’ve really got problems.”
“Oh Smacker!” I exclaimed. “You were the wisest of swingers and the noblest of rakes! When I hear you opine on the issues of the day, my affection for humanity grows bigger than a hippo’s arse!”
Perhaps Natasha Blasick should consider what would happen if she giggled at the appendage of the lecherous phantom that enjoyed her sexual favours. I wouldn’t be surprised if it blew her out of the window.
Labels: ghost, ghost sex, laughter, todger, Uriah the Hittite
Friday, November 23, 2012
Tongue penance
I was shocked to hear news of an Indian man who cut off his tongue in a futile attempt to persuade his wife to come back home. It seems he had abused her with insults so vile that she packed her bags and left with their young child. He then tried to make amends by removing the offensive organ, but his wife has yet to respond to his gesture of remorse. Let’s hope she does something more dignified than clapping her hands and dancing a jig.
I have to admit that I’ve never seen a living creature cut off its own tongue. It must be the damnedest thing. Can you imagine the willpower and dexterity required to keep your tongue stuck out while attempting to sever it with a sharp implement? Someone should invent a miniature guillotine that could slice it off cleanly without all the yanking and hacking of a manual excision.
As an act of atonement, what he did was worthless. There’s no point blaming your tongue for the sins of your mind. His wife must be less likely than ever to make up with him now. I don’t suppose they were into French kissing and oral sex in a big way, but there are other aggravations for a woman with a tongueless husband. Having to answer all the phone-calls and haggle with street vendors might test her patience. And interrogating her husband about his activities would be impossible unless they both learned sign language.
I hope this will be a lesson to all men who are abandoned by their wives for engaging in malicious banter. Amputating your tongue won’t win her back. If you want to show contrition, put on a gimp costume with a ball-gag and give your wife the key. Nothing says sorry like putting your fate in the hands of the person you offended.
As one marriage ends prematurely, another one continues beyond the grave. I refer to the Serbian woman who gave instructions for a likeness of her vagina to be carved on her grave to discourage her husband from pursuing other women. Before dismissing her as a crazy old bat, have a look at the engraving on her headstone (picture below). If it’s an accurate depiction, she had a remarkably handsome vulva with pleasing floral symmetry. I doubt her husband will find another woman with a coochie so cute.
The problem, of course, is that looks aren’t everything where sexual organs are concerned. No man ever satisfied his urges by admiring a beautiful vagina. This Serbian widower may have fond memories of his wife’s snatch, but when push comes to shove he’ll want something more inviting than an etching on a tombstone. Visiting the grave will just make him yearn for the real thing.
Is he worried that his wife will haunt him, as happened to the butcher in Fiddler on the Roof? He shouldn’t be. Ghosts can’t do a thing when a man and woman are horizontal. They just float around frustratedly, looking for something to blow on.
Labels: ghost, India, jealousy, marriage, tongue-cutting, vulva
