Wednesday, March 31, 2004

Wednesday's Mixed Colostomy Bag

You might be curious to know that my SWU students didn't know who Sheik Yassin was. I should have directed them to what is perhaps my favorite Allapundit Photoshopping job.

I'm not sure I should confess the following, but here we go...

The French have a saying: Le coeur a ses raisons que la Raison ne connaît point. The heart has its reasons, of which Reason knows nothing.*

Let me modify the above to apply to my current situation: La bite a ses raisons que la Raison ne connaît point.

The dick has its reasons, of which Reason knows nothing.

Last week, on the second day of classes, a girl walked into my class-- the kind who sets off all sorts of alarms in any culture, who activates dormant glands, arouses the id, clouts the superego over the head and dumps its unconscious form into a closet. The kind of girl who, in your more lucid moments, you know is all wrong for you. You can see right away that she's high-maintenance, has a complex social life, and can have her pick of the pool of available males. She'll suck you dry and leave your husk to bleach in the desert sun.

But the dick, awash in this Aphrodite's pheromones, has taken over-- and all it sees is someone to nail. It'll probably be another couple weeks before I get all the students' names down pat, so I don't know this girl's name. It doesn't matter; the dick has targeted her for spermination. The Police took the Lolita story and gave us "Don't Stand So Close to Me," which about sums up how I feel whenever this chica either looks at me or-- as she did today-- hangs around after the end of class to ask English questions. All the dick sees is huge brown eyes; slim, curvy hips; compact, athletic figure; amazing smile; long, lovely hair.

In case you're wondering: no, I'm not going to let this go anywhere. But I'm a man, this is a blog, and if I can write a couple column-inches explaining to you the absolute evil of my diarrhea, then I think I can give you a wee bit of insight into the twisted workings of the male (or at least one male's) consciousness. For further research in this area, I highly recommend this film, which is waaay the hell over the top, but does provide an interesting glimpse of the fucked-up world of maleness.

[*NB: The negative construction "ne...point" in French is a very strong form of the standard negation "ne...pas." In truth it's "ne...rien" that usually yields the translation "nothing" in English, but I don't see an elegant way around "ne...point" in translating the above proverb. I suppose I could translate it, "The heart has its reasons, which Reason knows NOT." But using all-caps or italics to translate "ne...point" strikes me as something of a cop-out.]

I'm too damn tired to offer you more this evening. Have a day.


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