Dear Dr. Down-Down,
I came home last night feeling fully responsible and ready to get back to the important business of running my household, if you know what I mean (wink wink, nudge nudge). The old lady knew right away something was up. She announced a headache and locked herself in the master bedroom. We hadn’t even had dinner yet. I tried to occupy my mind with affairs of state, but wrong thoughts intruded. Finally I couldn’t stand it any more. I strode down the hall to the master bedroom, kicked open the door, and took a detour into the master bathroom. I lifted the lid of the toilet and urinated smack into the middle of the water, making as much noise as possible. I wanted to make certain she was awake. “My oh my,” I said, with a final splash, “I sure could use a little physical intimacy right now!” Then I slammed the lid shut and walked into the bedroom.
She’d taken the hint. She was already out of bed, wearing the cocktail dress I’d bought her at the Eddie Bauer outlet last month, kneeling on the carpet and ready to pry into my personal life. “I suppose you want inappropriate sexual activity,” she said, pursing her lips. “No,” I said, unknotting the cravat she’d bought me two weeks ago at Pep Boys, “inappropriate sexual activity’s getting old. I feel like something even more not appropriate. Something more personally private, and yet destructive of my institutional dignity.” “Like what?” she asked. “How about watersports?” I said, suddenly inspired by my recent micturational interlude. “Watersports?” she asked. “What the hell are watersports?”
Well, I thought I could handle addressing wrong things in a frank and truthful manner, but watersports are so very wrong I found myself tempted to mislead her, or at the very least unable to fully divulge the truth to her. Thankfully, I am no stranger to the back alleyways of the Internet, and I smoothly said, “Watersports? I’m glad you asked. Come with me to the computer room – I’ll run a search and you can read all about it.”
Imagine my surprise when Lycos locked onto the the Korean Central News Agency page, the official press outlet of the Democratic Peoples’ Republic of Korea. “What the hell,” I asked myself, “the bastards are starving and they have time to engage in watersports? There must be more to Stalinism and the Cult of Personality than I realized.” Turning to my wife, I said, “Here, read this – if this doesn’t get you in the mood for some really inappropriate sexual activity, I don’t know what will.” And this is what she read:
Pyongyang, August 19 (KCNA) — Water sports are brisk in the DPRK. In-door and out-door swimming pools, wading pools and swimming beaches in Pyongyang and other areas of the country are crowded with a great many people every day. Thousands of youths and schoolchildren go to the Panwoldo Swimming Pool on the River Taedong in the capital city of Pyongyang on a daily average. Not all of them are good swimmers, but they want to swim across the river, hundreds of metres wide. Many of them already swam across the river. Swimming beaches in Songdowon, Majon and Waudo and swimming pools in provinces, cities and counties are vibrating with water sports of working people and schoolchildren. Great efforts are directed to the development of sea sports in Korea bounded on three sides by the sea and abundant in rivers and streams. July and August are months of water sports. Working people and schoolchildren set themselves the goal of learning how to get used to water, swim, cross a river and row a boat during those months of the year. Many factories, enterprises and schools hold many games, including swimming matches in the period. The swimming game of youths and schoolchildren draws a particular attention. The youths and schoolchildren throughout the country are preparing themselves for a swimming meet to be held in Pyongyang to celebrate the 50th founding anniversary of the DPRK.
To make a long story short, the evening turned out rather differently than I had supposed it would, and I can honestly say . . . at least as regards last night, with no intent to mislead . . . I never had sexual relations with that woman.
Former President William Jefferson Clinton
Chappaqua, New York
You know what I enjoy almost as much as sex? A good cigar!
Dear Dr. Down-Down,
I have a linguistic question. Do you use the term “blow job” only for fellatio, or for cunnilingus too? I’ve heard it and seen it used both ways, and neither one really makes sense . . . since, after all, it’s just called a “blow” job… right? I guess it just depends on which end of the tongue you’re on, but I was just wondering. Hope you can help.
Mexico City HHH, Mexico
Are blow job kidding? Blow job use the term “blow job” as a personal pronoun!
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