Mon Apr 16, 2018 11:43 am
Back in the day, you walked up hill both ways, and no one bitched and moaned about "privilege." And if you wanted a dildo, you didn't just go down to The Pleasure Hut or whatever. Sex stores off the highway? Are you MAD!?!?!! Back in the day, you had to go into the forest, and find a big ol' hunk of wood. And you took that hunk of wood back to your house, and you hid that hunk of wood from your parents. And when your dad was at work, and your mom was at book club, you snuck into your dad's woodshop and you carved that piece of wood. you started with the table saw, and rounded off the edges with the belt sander. If needed, you would have to bust out the dremel. And you carved that dildo. And it took time. You damn kids, you don't know anything about blood sweat and tears. And once you carved that wooden penis, you needed to make sure to SAND THE SHIT OUT OF IT. No one wants a splinter in their woo-ha. Have you ever sat there, for 10 hours, sanding a wooden dildo, in your dads woodshop, that you weren't supposed to be in, while your dad was at work, and your mom at book club? I DON'T THINK SO. And then after you sanded that wooden penis into a smooth, useable object, you had to lacquer it, and possibly apply a coat of varnish safe for insertion. Nowadays you damn kids and your purple dildos. You just go to Bob's Crank Shaft and walk out with 14 purple dildos. And you're talking about the privilege and the boppity and the bloopity and the beep and the boop. When I met my wife, I didn't just go down to Tom's Rubber Tackle Shack and walk out with one of them magic vibrato things. No sir! I cut that out and sanded it down, in my woodshop. Damn kids.