You know the old saying -- you've probably heard it before:
"Don't worry... it happens to everyone." At that point and time, you don't believe
it. You can't believe it. Has
everyone really been lying there in the dark with an unsatisfied woman/man and
no ability to do anything about it? Or
what about having a woman/man who, on a scale of one to ten, is easily a twelve
and she's rip-roaring and ready and you have to face a moral crisis about
whether or not to tell her you currently are infested with creepy, crawly
crabs? What about that? Does that
happen to everyone?
I didn't write the Bible, but if I did, I would make that
the new John 3:16. For God so loved the world, that he equated good deeds with sexual
heroics on command without use of pill, prayer or essence of rhino horn. But that's not going to happen, is it? No man who tinkered with the scribbling of
Scripture ever bothered to make mention of one of the greatest sins of all
time: sexual dysfunction.
So be not dismayed!
For although saints and apostles neglected to mention it, many very
important songwriters did. And next time
you hear the words "It happens to everyone," rest assured that even
if it didn't, Mick Jagger wrote a fucking song about it, which is good enough
for me. So pop a pill, say a prayer, and
snort some rhino horn, but do it to some Rolling Stones or some Howlin' Wolf and
get those "Rocks Off!"
It's hard enough out there, with all the pressures of
performance to keep a good man erect during a... um, sermon. What, with the
stresses from work, the need to please, wondering if your butt looks good for
the hidden camera... But add to all this a dirty yes ma'am and there is no
quicker recipe for flaccidity. But in
the bedroom at the moment of conflagration is not the appropriate time to
discuss such a topic. Rather, as soon as
you read this post -- hell, before you move on to #9 -- grab a little dab of
vinegar and water and get in there and scrub out your yes ma'am. Get it clean.
Because sometimes it's your
fault.
So there is a pretty good chance that this one is a bit of a
reach, but if you've ever dated a girl with recurring maladies, you end up
giving her all kinds of nicknames. Plus,
how many times have you sat in the doctor's waiting room, itching away and
singing "it burns, burns, burns..."
Now, in this context, please click on the link and listen to the song,
lyric by lyric and tell me it's not applicable.
Puts June Carter Cash (rest her precious soul) in an entirely new light.
