Wednesday, September 14, 2011

THE FARMERS OF L.A. & Other Topics Of Hormonal Importance: Nausea-Proof Sexuality, Dieux du Stade 2012 & Rugby World Cock ... oops, Cup

by Dick of All Dicks & Poli Tico

If you noticed in the sidebar, I've already chosen "Strong-stomachiage" as our official terminology in lieu of "Gay Marriage". It was suggested by Tom of Sydney, & I think it captures just how I've always felt about the thing. I may have loved having sex with straight men at one point but I simply never had the strong stomach to do it with a B-lister gay man, much less marry anyone of the kind. But it didn't stop others from suggesting their take. Special mention is from Rod from Las Vegas: gay marriage for him is "nausea-proofing".

Tom married Fred because he could stomach having sex with him.

Tom got nausea-proofed with Fred because he could stomach having sex with him.

Meaning, not all men who are into men are nausea-proof so they never could stomach marrying each other. The truth is, most simply have more refined taste than our B-lister "sisters".

Before, I was inundated with emails from gays who sent their nude pictures hoping to seduce me & test if my stomach was strong enough. No dice, I respect too much my "sisters" & "grandmas", even the most macho-looking ones. Last week, after I posted I actually had sex with two female readers, it's the turn of the girls to send their nude photos. I wonder if most weren't part of the same class though. Same age levels, same pose (the thumb & index finger separating their labia while they try to look their interpretation of a seductive pose to the camera). They were all swearing they weren't bisexuals, & one quoted what I wrote in the last post, that she "hates diluted Pinot Noir & fake Rolex too". Lol, I'm horny already, obviously she has taste, too. Very sexy gimmick, girls.

I have to make a confession though. That sexual fling with the girl I wrote about in the last post happened early this year yet. I already have a steady girlfriend who meets all my standards & we're practically living in together. We have plans to marry, probably next year so I'm into heterosexual monogamy nowadays. Next month, I'll be a father too. A French girl I accidentally impregnated because of "heat of the moment" unprotected sex during my sexual conversion program (ah, that wild time) will give birth to my first son. I would have wanted to give him a normal family life but I fell in love already with my present girl. Love does complicate even the lives of the innocents but I've been busy trying to figure out how to make it up to reduce any deficits on his development. Fatherhood prospects excite me, & I'm glad he'll grow up with no risk of incurring the damaged psyche of one growing up with a father who is a laughing-stock among his peers.

But I'm getting into the groove of a normal life. Needless to say, I'm satisfied with my life now.

Cool, I think our new format is cool. Politics, sports & sex. Treated very differently from the usual hackneyed sources. Stripped of mindless pretensions hiding behind intellectually dishonest political correctness which is boring everybody. Not to mention the general lowering of taste & other standards of excellence, may I add, which contributed to the breakdown in the West these days because it became culturally expedient for people to relax on their standards & be content in deludedly pretending as "cool", clueless of the ominous cracking of the very foundations of their dream world. Some still love posturing like a 1990's gender-bending British like it's the coolest thing in the world, but just succeeded in betraying they came from a farm somewhere, clueless (as always) that the British have long outgrown the pretension. Do these yokels know even British gays were turned off after all the decades of media gender-bending that only 1% of them now remained willing to identify themselves as bent? Have you noticed so many of these poseurs still litter the LA scene? Cool America, huh? I don't blame the Brits for laughing. My Brit DJ friend once related the story of this trying-hard gender-bending California rock duo who visited London. They immediately postured as latter-day Bowie & Jagger wanna-bes in their interviews. They were too stoned to notice that nobody among the self-respecting current crop of big British rock groups has remained as hicky as them with gimmicks long considered "passe". Pity because I would have loved their songs. They didn't need hackneyed gimmicks from their British auntie's closet, it just made their sound cheap. That's what they get for getting handlers who just escaped from the farm like them.

That's the reason why the West is currently reeling: suddenly being a clueless cultural farmhand is cool.

Writing this blog has been a learning process. It is now more attuned to our social, intellectual & educational levels (everybody, even our "humble" poster who I now call Poli Tico because of his deep political viewpoints, has a doctorate, & we were just publishing sport beefcake). We're trying to upgrade the genre in our own style. It all started as a prank during a rained out manhunt vacation, & we were surprised it caught on even after we have forgotten it. We were hesitant at first to continue but what the heck, why not a new adventure? But we'd rather not post if we'd only be just like the rest though. I've actually given total freedom to Poli (cute name) to continue with the blog when I finally decided I would self-identify as heterosexual, but I have to butt in with alacrity again, blame it on my British friend Ewan for calling me about that unbelievable transformation of taste in the "land of straight lads who change their undies every three days & straight girls who douche with vinegar every minute" (our private joke, don't ask what it means). We'll still have interesting study pieces like those on JFK & Brando but probably we should hark back to our previous sensual inclination every now & then. Many are still sending pictures (Red of New York wrote he missed the days when we were publishing many times a day, "nobody still came close to replacing us". Lol. Were you from the PR of Lehman Bros, Red?). It's the time of the year when straight rugby players should be getting naked before the cameras again. It should be an opportune time because the Rugby World Cock, er, Cup, I should say... is ongoing in New Zealand.

Thomas sent the pics below from the 2011 DVD. He sure has good visual acuity. But if the coming "Dieux du Stade 2012" is to succeed, they shouldn't reduce people to resort to straining their eyes hunting for wayward pieces of genitalia. Doing so will hasten their now hurtling trip to oblivion.

I've actually almost forgotten DDS if not for Thomas' email. Then suddenly there was a deluge of emails asking why we seem not to be the first source anymore? Well, my French friend Yves is busy nowadays because of the plan of the French government to tax the rich in the wake of their moribund economy, so he's probably watching his father more than watching Rugby players these days. Moreover, since my sexual conversion, he became more into cocooning with his wife instead of hunting "les mecs" in the Sorbornne (Dingue, dingue, dingue...) We've been influencing each other. First, Juan entered sexual conversion, I followed suit, then if you're wondering why no feature lately from my favorite hunting ground, Italy, it's because my former partner in cockhunting, Tomasso, is now engaged. Yup, with a very pretty girl (Mamma mia, Tomasso, tua ragazza deve farmi un pompino, va bene?). He didn't want to be edged out in our eternal friendly oneupmanship. Even my Dutch friend who first tried strong-stomachiage but later divorced his queen husband who got queener every year recently called up he finally came inside a vagina. I've been heckling him that if he could get horny with his former husband who looked like a muscled Kate Moss, no reason he couldn't do it with a girl. He was actually ecstatic: "Ja... echt geen misselijkheid!" Lol. He has no need for strong stomachs anymore.

Of course, not all of my friends are benign. Greg, my neighbor, seems malignant, he's refractory to all therapies so far. But he'll try again next year. Meanwhile, he just bought another sports car for his straight kept boy.

What a Rugby World Cock... er, Cup indeed!

NOTE: I was listening to French singer Christophe Mae's album, On A Trace La Route, while writing this post. It is the first one I did while practically dancing. Dingue, dingue, dingue... Next, I'll listen to the recommendation of my Spanish friend, Coño, Carlos Baute's Amarte Bien. Then Foster The People's Torches.

cover- Sébastien Torresin