Many of you have inquired just how my best friend earns his daily bread. Where does he come up with the cash to be such a man-about-town? The answer is that he is a tenured professor at a local post-secondary institution, giving lectures on sociology, psychology and quantum mechanics.
I am not going to name the institution, as his classes are already oversubscribed. Recently, however, he deigned to allow me to attend one of his lectures. The subject was "Sex and Philosophy."
My best friend began the lesson by bringing up the subject of "MP's" and the vital role they play in society. An eager beaver immediately raised her hand. "What does MP mean? Massively Patriarchal?"
"Major Penises?" a nearby lad suggested.
"Marvellous Places." replied the professor. "These establishments provide an essential lifeline for men who are stressed, are lonely, haven't met a woman in the flesh since 1979, or who recently watched a Sarah Michelle Gellar movie and are chomping at the bit to nail someone who looks just like her."
"That hardly sounds philosophical." one student frowned.
"Oh, but it is." replied my friend. "Consider the difference between the public and private spheres. I can speak of something public--a sculpture in the square, a striking building, a restaurant--and I can describe it to you in minute detail. The subtlety of the artist's palette. The use of light and contour. Or, in the case of a restaurant, the subtle hint of cardamom in a particular dish."
"So?" the eager beaver shrugged.
"The point is that immediately after I have described them to you, you or any other citizen can go there and experience exactly what I experienced, down to the last detail. Because these things are in the public domain, you can experience them, see them, taste them, just as I have." he explained. "But sex traditionally has been considered part of the private sphere. A man may describe to his friends his most recent intimate encounter with his wife or girlfriend in graphic detail, but unless he's a card-carrying swinger, it will remain nothing more than a mental picture in his friends' heads."
"MPs--Magical Paradises--bring sex into the public realm." my best friend proceeded to explain. "I can attend one such establishment, enjoy a full session of intimacy with my choice of provider, and come back and describe every thrust and every groan in minute detail. The difference here is that you can immediately get in a car/truck/taxi/unicycle, betake yourself down to that same estalishment and experience EXACTLY what I have just experienced, down to every groan."
My friend began to wax poetic. "Imagine the gloriousness of it! I can rave to you of how tightly the walls of a particular beauty enshrouded me, and in a matter of a half an hour, you yourself can be ensconced in those self-same marvellous depths! You, whom I've never met, can enjoy the same identical intimacy with the same woman--the only thing connecting us the depths of the ecstasy she brings us to!"
I raised my hand. "Can you give us an example?"
He paused to mop his brow with a handkerchief. "The other night, I was watching a Jenny McCarthy movie on pay-per-view. I suddenly had a craving for downy-soft, rotund breasts, the way other people might get a craving for ice cream or a salisbury steak. I raced out into the street and hailed a cab. 'Temptations!' I blurted to the driver, who grinned as if he understood."
"I arrived at the front door and was greeted by a woman I'd never been with before." the professor continued. "She gave her name as Anjali. I eagerly decided that she would more than satisfy my craving. After a quick shower, I lay on my front on the bed, craning my neck as she slipped out of her panties. She unhooked her bra, which got my immediate attention. Her breasts were gorgeous."
"Anjali proceeded to give me a relaxing massage, though I was anxious throughout to present myself to her. Finally, she whispered that I should roll over. She complimented me on my height, which somehow caused it to increase! I in turn praised her breasts, which she urged me to suck on. Hert nipples were well-shaped and responsive."
"I was dying to bury myself inside her, and she was happy to comply. I was ecstatic. The walls closed around me and I felt content. Her skin was satiny-soft against me, and we closed our eyes to savour the moment. Finally, I could stand it no longer and let go. She praised me on the force of my release, and I lingered as long as I could inside her."
Across the lecture theatre, male students were mopping their own flushed brows. The one female student was texting something on her BlackBerry.
I rose. "What a phenomenal tale!" I exclaimed. "I felt like I was right there, doing everything you were doing."
"But you can be!" retorted the professor. "You can do everything I just did with Anjali!"
His eyes swept the room. "What are you all waiting for? Class dismissed!!"
I am not going to name the institution, as his classes are already oversubscribed. Recently, however, he deigned to allow me to attend one of his lectures. The subject was "Sex and Philosophy."
My best friend began the lesson by bringing up the subject of "MP's" and the vital role they play in society. An eager beaver immediately raised her hand. "What does MP mean? Massively Patriarchal?"
"Major Penises?" a nearby lad suggested.
"Marvellous Places." replied the professor. "These establishments provide an essential lifeline for men who are stressed, are lonely, haven't met a woman in the flesh since 1979, or who recently watched a Sarah Michelle Gellar movie and are chomping at the bit to nail someone who looks just like her."
"That hardly sounds philosophical." one student frowned.
"Oh, but it is." replied my friend. "Consider the difference between the public and private spheres. I can speak of something public--a sculpture in the square, a striking building, a restaurant--and I can describe it to you in minute detail. The subtlety of the artist's palette. The use of light and contour. Or, in the case of a restaurant, the subtle hint of cardamom in a particular dish."
"So?" the eager beaver shrugged.
"The point is that immediately after I have described them to you, you or any other citizen can go there and experience exactly what I experienced, down to the last detail. Because these things are in the public domain, you can experience them, see them, taste them, just as I have." he explained. "But sex traditionally has been considered part of the private sphere. A man may describe to his friends his most recent intimate encounter with his wife or girlfriend in graphic detail, but unless he's a card-carrying swinger, it will remain nothing more than a mental picture in his friends' heads."
"MPs--Magical Paradises--bring sex into the public realm." my best friend proceeded to explain. "I can attend one such establishment, enjoy a full session of intimacy with my choice of provider, and come back and describe every thrust and every groan in minute detail. The difference here is that you can immediately get in a car/truck/taxi/unicycle, betake yourself down to that same estalishment and experience EXACTLY what I have just experienced, down to every groan."
My friend began to wax poetic. "Imagine the gloriousness of it! I can rave to you of how tightly the walls of a particular beauty enshrouded me, and in a matter of a half an hour, you yourself can be ensconced in those self-same marvellous depths! You, whom I've never met, can enjoy the same identical intimacy with the same woman--the only thing connecting us the depths of the ecstasy she brings us to!"
I raised my hand. "Can you give us an example?"
He paused to mop his brow with a handkerchief. "The other night, I was watching a Jenny McCarthy movie on pay-per-view. I suddenly had a craving for downy-soft, rotund breasts, the way other people might get a craving for ice cream or a salisbury steak. I raced out into the street and hailed a cab. 'Temptations!' I blurted to the driver, who grinned as if he understood."
"I arrived at the front door and was greeted by a woman I'd never been with before." the professor continued. "She gave her name as Anjali. I eagerly decided that she would more than satisfy my craving. After a quick shower, I lay on my front on the bed, craning my neck as she slipped out of her panties. She unhooked her bra, which got my immediate attention. Her breasts were gorgeous."
"Anjali proceeded to give me a relaxing massage, though I was anxious throughout to present myself to her. Finally, she whispered that I should roll over. She complimented me on my height, which somehow caused it to increase! I in turn praised her breasts, which she urged me to suck on. Hert nipples were well-shaped and responsive."
"I was dying to bury myself inside her, and she was happy to comply. I was ecstatic. The walls closed around me and I felt content. Her skin was satiny-soft against me, and we closed our eyes to savour the moment. Finally, I could stand it no longer and let go. She praised me on the force of my release, and I lingered as long as I could inside her."
Across the lecture theatre, male students were mopping their own flushed brows. The one female student was texting something on her BlackBerry.
I rose. "What a phenomenal tale!" I exclaimed. "I felt like I was right there, doing everything you were doing."
"But you can be!" retorted the professor. "You can do everything I just did with Anjali!"
His eyes swept the room. "What are you all waiting for? Class dismissed!!"
