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2004-01-23 The Professor and I are getting married in eight days. Whatever. Did you know you have to wear a special dress? Anyway, before you are allowed to marry in the Catholic Church, you have to attend a little seminar called "Pre-Cana". The Professor and I came away from this experience with a great deal more knowledge about vaginal mucus and the workings of the human heart than we could previously claim. I would like to share with you a quote from the eminently underqualified speaker who treated us to a Christ-centric sex talk. "Whatever you do sexually, make sure to wrap God around it first." Couldn't be more true. I live my life by that maxim. I would also like to share with you a poem the Professor and I collaborated on during one of the less illuminating lectures. The lines I wrote are marked with an N, and the lines the Professor wrote are marked with a P. (P) "Lines Composed During a Pre-Cana Personality Sorter, You Dripping Heathen; I'm No Fanny." * (N) Storeth up not treasures in your mom, for her breasts are like two fleecy ewes bounding down the hillside, which is pleasing in the nostrils of the Lord. (P) The surface of the inner nostril, smooth as an anal bead, descendeth from the H'ev. What we have is homely nothingness--loss. I touch the wang; you choke it. (N) Reverend Camden descends from out the pulpit to molest; the altar flowers arch their sap after him. (P) Cry out! I have wrapped my wang in glory. * (P) When my mother bore the fattest, ugliest sapling, the afterbirth fled her loins like a thrush chased from the center of a thicket--my mother's thicket. (N) Which was dense as a cheese. We did not know, then, that the cancer had already taken hold of her sweet Swiss rind. (P) Smash my balls with your small hammer, I have tiny needles in my hot spot, grab a cachet and groove my hideous Junta rod; like an old '78. (N) Replace my wiper fluid. Oh, but my windshield is dirty! (P) Cry out! I have wrapped my wang in glory. * (N) The mind cannot be circumcised beyond its own foreskin. (P) The heart is a boy who calls his feces "Baby". * You will notice the allusions to Freud, Elizabeth Bishop, and 7th Heaven. I think there is some real wisdom in the thing.
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