Wednesday, April 29, 2009
For the life of me, I can't understand how a dead Finnish composer is going to handle the swine flu problem in this country. I heard Ron practicing that line before doing his act in Wichita the other day. At least I think that's what he said--it's difficult to tell from within the confines of his pants.
That became a major problem when I went into acting because, thanks to learning English through jeans, with everything sounding muffled, I had a terrible speech impediment. Casting agents thought I was deaf. I suppose it could have been worse; most people's dicks spend the day inside pants and underpants. Because of Ron's career, I was often free of the shackles of clothes. But because of Ron's career, I had scant time to take in the air, as I was usually in a dark wet hole. And except for one of those holes, you can't hear shit in there! I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but I like to think of myself as the Helen Keller of giant cocks. My world was often quiet and dark. In Ron's youth I was a wild thing, almost feral. Working in hardcore gave me discipline, but it didn't give me anything in the way of communication skills or mastery over my instrument, to use an acting class expression. And unlike Helen, I didn't have Annie Sullivan guiding me out of the darkness. Best I had was Penny Sullivan, who guided me into her darkness, but who reached me with her kegels (this whole "One-Eyed Monster" experience has given me renewed appreciation for kegels, which you'll understand when you see the movie). She taught me something akin to Morse code while I was in her--a series of patterned contractions that I came to decipher during Ron's thrusting. Achieve that, Keller! Where's MY stamp?? Anyway, when women say that Ron's dick speaks to them, that's my coded throbs they're talking about. How I learned to type is another story.
Ron then said something to the effect of "There's no evidence to suggest your governor can manage a flu epidemic, since she clearly hasn't been able to do that for the epidemic of reactionary Red State bullshit thinking in this state." No mistaking what I heard then: crickets. Stick to fuck films, Ronny!