Saw a man in a comedy club a regular act told stories how porn was religion. Worshipped professional fuck people. I love these pro fuckers. They’re PRO FUCKERS! They fuck for us. We should be thankful. We should pay them more, provide health insurance, encourage unions. Some of the shit they do is circus act, fuck-Olympics, seen the phrase anal gymnastics and it’s true. Your ass can’t do that. Even as BDSM bravado your ass is not doing some of that. So we watch it! We watch it and stroke. Shit raw, shit hot. That shit nice. And so, rather than run and hide, rather than runaway man club, knowing the knowledge thing, how Mormons and Christians born, knowing born them all, he decided to celebrate the wank, the fap, the stroke. Fap Strokeman! Come here, man! Wanky Strokesman. Autocorrect be prudish. My autocorrect is a fucking pietist. Come here, little wanky, you can do it. Wankman joins Eric Suburbia Samurai, Norman, Dr. Overman, and Oakman on the adventure.
Knew a comedian whose wife didn’t think he was funny. How you think they worked that one? Separate spheres. She didn’t just think he was unfunny, thought he was an idiot. Or, allowed his uncultured, uncouth idiot self come out. Now, the audience uproarious nights she’s attended, seen a few acts, screaming laughter these motherfuckers, telling stories, too, the Storyteller, and she’s like, what an asshole. What a dick wad. What frat boy humor. Nora didn’t like James either. Especially not his young nymph wank scene on the seacoast. Nor Molly’s whitewater interior monologue.