At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016


This blogger is extremely baffled by the weird Southern obsession with sex in public restrooms, and suspects that that must be common enough down there that strenuously not taking a convenience is advisable when travelling below the Mason Dixon line. Clench fiercely, grimace, and just stay away from the hot buttered biscuits! Avoid relief at all costs!

Or at all costs simply avoid Dixie, period.

Because of nasty noises.


I also suspect that very many Southern public restrooms are decorated with crucifixes and rebel flags. In case you didn't take the hint.

It's a different world there.

For anyone not inordinately fond of greasy crap, avoiding the secessionist states won't be difficult.

Both of the great Southern national dishes can easily be made at home anyhow: chicken-fried bacon strips, fricasseed swamp rat with grits.

The first sounds delicious, albeit depraved, and the second can probably be improved by omitting the grits and substituting rice.
[Or potatoes, if you're very white.]

I am not surprised that so many great authors came from the South.
So much material to work with, so much frustration to work out.
The place is, clearly, a literary gold mine.
That's still no reason to visit.

P.1 & P.2

Because I live in San Francisco, I suppose that I have on occasion took the convenience with a gay person or a transgendered individual. Or done so at a time when one of them was doing likewise. Actually, several times. But in the decades that I have lived in this city, there has never been anything even remotely sexual about that. It really makes me wonder how eliminatively focused flirting and f****ng is in the South.

Leaking together is NOT a social occasion. Not here.

Southern Lust: P and P by the bucket load.
Must be all that fried chicken.
Dang, y'all nasty.


After thought: at some future moment there may be an essay exploring the social opportunities of public restrooms across the Deep South, and why a flush is better than a formal introduction at a ball. Why hello miss, the sound of rushing water is infinitely romantic, don't you agree?

Do you like people with healthy organs?

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


  • At 12:09 PM, Anonymous e-kvetcher said…

    Someone recently mentioned a book by Alice Dreger called "Galileo's Middle Finger", which lead me to look her up as well as her article about the J. Michael Bailey affair. It's fascinating stuff. And I've learned about autogynephilia and "womb turds" in the process...

  • At 12:53 PM, Blogger The back of the hill said…

    About one fifth of the way in on that link. It will take me quite a while to digest.


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home

Newer›  ‹Older