FILTERED PORK PRODUCTS

There were over fifty e-mails that I did not get today. And actually, I’m feeling good about that. Not everything ever sent needs to arrive.

Most of the e-mails were about wonderful things I can do with my penis. Now, you would think that having had the thing for several years (my whole life, in fact), I myself would be most cognizant of strange tricks I can do with Brother Dongus. I’m in the best position to know, right?

No.

There’s a panel of experts out there, all of them alerting me to misuse.
Or leastways, incomplete or haphazard use. Of my penis. There is SO much more I can and should be doing (with my Johnson) that they feel the need to contact me.

Several of the e-mails had titles that referenced medication.
I did not open them, because I know EXACTLY where my John Thomas has been in the last thirty years or more, and I have reason to believe it has only been in good wholesome places.
My penis has led a fine upstanding life, in fact.
No medical treatment needed.

A number of e-mails suggested I should either encourage breathlessness, panicked gasping for air, or violent agitation.
Possibly this would also involve medication, and did I already mention that I’ve kept complete and accurate track of what my Dangling Modifier has ever done, and where?

I'm rather OCD that way. It's a gift.

Some messages were captioned in a way that suggested that penile dimensions and electric energy were linked – I do not intend to solve the energy crisis myself, so I did not read those either.


ZESTY YOUNG NUNS!

The one about teenage lesbians in the rectory looked interesting, but having seen more than enough nude documentaries over the years I am painfully aware that my tastes and the tastes of the average home and garden pervert do, in fact, differ considerably. I have good taste, the average deviant doesn’t.
Almost everything that Bubba MacSmut likes is unpleasant – the common pornographer has the jejune tastes of a twelve-year old, and the cinematographic hamhandedness of a tourist with a new gadget. We do NOT need to see your auntie wave at the camera in front of cousin Betsy blowing the world’s oldest donkey. But thank you for the offer, and feel free to keep showing that vacation tape to your friends and family.
They’ll be delighted!

The saddest e-mail was the one that may have suggested that sex with a teacher was in the cards.
I cannot remember any teachers who appealed to me in that way, although several of them did smoke cigars, and I like cigars. Cigars are very good.
Cigars are not a sound basis for exploitative sex with elderly people, however. And even though they weren’t elderly when I knew them, even in that day and age they weren’t quite my ‘type’.
Sorry.

Besides, it just isn’t right to depend on teachers for a bang. They probably cannot handle it with equanimity, and seeing the person who forced his exuberant youth on them in class everyday might make them nervous. In any case it would affect their instruction. Some teachers are shy, and blush easily, a few stutter at the drop of a hat.
And many are far too obsessed with their own peculiar subject to be interested in anyone else's "peculiar subject".


As per the recommendation of our e-mail filter, I have deleted all e-mails selected. Somewhere a spammer is weeping.