Friday, October 08, 2004

When I Rule The World . . .

. . . and am a tenured MFA professor I'm going to require all of my straight white male students write exclusively about the one subject that is true to their being and lives. I know hundreds, probably thousands of straight white guys, have them in my family, have always lived in their neighborhoods, attended school with them, hell, I even married one. Some of my best friends are straight white guys. I feel quite secure that I know what they're all about. That's why I'm going to insist that all my straight white male students write about titties.

I know, I know, there will be some initial resistance from some of my students. One guy will claim, "Well I'm more of an ass and leg man myself." To that I'll quip "Wrong culture darling, embrace your true self. Fight the urge to pretend to be something you're not"

Another guy will whine, "Sure, I like titties, but there's so much more to me than that. I have interests in . . ." This is where I'll cut him off and give him the speech about his responsibility to his culture. How can he turn his back on his forefathers like Hugh Hefner and Bob Guccione who fought against all odds for his right to purchase titty publications. Larry Flynt took a bullet and is a wheelchair. How can he deny his sacrifice? What about all of those men who toiled in medical school learning to create the perfect big breast? They pay very high fees for malpractice insurance and they do it gladly for men like him.

There will always be that sad, pathetic man who'll say "Don't tell me what's important in my life and to my culture, Ms. Never-Had-A-Dick. I'll define myself, thank you." To this I'll explain that the first step to becoming a true poet and getting an MFA at Rebbie U is to stop hating oneself. Then I'll throw a Penthouse Forum at him and tell to write more like those white guys. It's time for him to get real. Like it or not, everytime he steps into a room all the women are thinking the same thing, "He's looking at my tits."


At 5:27 PM, Blogger shanna said...

belly laughing. take that, anon!

At 5:51 PM, Blogger Phatback said...

Do not taunt me with these postings when you know I cannot respond appropriately!

At 1:02 PM, Blogger Whimsy said...

If Gabe Gudding can write a great poetry book filled with asses, why not?

At 1:12 PM, Blogger Reb said...

I've read In Defense of Poetry and don't recall a single titty. Shame on GG!

At 4:12 PM, Blogger Charles said...

At 6:07 PM, Blogger Reb said...

Hey Charles, that wasn't even a requirement for your degree. Extra Credit!

At 7:52 AM, Anonymous Oliver Luker said...

I'm late to respond but your post, and then the later rebuttal, had me whiling away the last 15 minutes to come up with this piece of appalling doggerel. I suppose it's better than work, but I'm not sure by how much.

Doggerel for a friend who professed no interest in breasts

Your feint at breast as love’s conceit
has had me reaching for a paean –
and staring till I strain my eyes
at every pair that passes by.

I’m not one for the belted waist
some men go swooning for. The legs,
those endless bones, the pins –
save for their use, they’re not my thing.

Won’t either bow to buttock cheek -
I’ll marvel, not be lowered by
an ass formed firm by gym, or knife.
It’s nice, but does not rule my life.

You’ve seen enough – enough to know
the breast’s the place to pin one’s dreams
and scour one’s heart down to the core –
there’s nothing else. There’s nothing more –

I walk observing tits – the lift,
the faltered hang, the drop, the drift.
I’ll stumble in my step at once and turn
to see – I’ll never learn

to keep in mind their shape and size.
I must … inspect the swell and curve
from rib to where the teat’s embossed.
Each pair by pair – or all is lost.

At 1:00 PM, Blogger Reb said...

Now that's what I'm talking about!


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