Moral Dilema

While this modest fortress of internet pornography and toilet humor is generally regarded as somewhat juvenile and shallow in nature, there is a deeply compassionate side to my endless ridicule and racial jokes. Perhaps it is this soft pink side that I whip purple with sharp mockery and fistfuckfilmography, in an effort to toughen up and deny my nature. After all, what sort of heartless, callous bastard could take everything sick and twisted from humanity, tie a red ribbon on it for high-speed delivery, and profit from the pain of others? With these sorts of people, I can ill afford to be acquainted for much longer, as small horns have started to brow at my brow. This unsettles me. Is it the act of pushing away something soft and used and forgetting about it, like an ex-girlfriend in the distant woods? Only a fool keeps their skeletons in the closet. The charred remnants of my conscience, however, were fanned to a sputtering flame recently, upon receiving the following correspondence from a compatriot:


John, over the last couple of years I have greatly enjoyed your banter. I have also read, with just a hint of ridicule, some of your stories seemingly impossible to actually happen. But after this last weekend, I will question no more the wild ideas that you seem to come up with. Let me explain.


Last week, I saved my wife from certain doom. It seemed that, while I was sitting the children, her and her sister got into a bar brawl of great magnitude. This I got from the State Trooper. She (the wife) ended up with a huge shiner and a Breathalyzer. I saved her and her slut sister via a sober ride home. Anyway, after a week and many family troubles later, I get a call from her boyfriend – ha ha, I know -- and apparently, she told him she got the shiner from me, which would be possible, knowing what I know now, except that I was too busy saving her.


So here is a question for you. Do you:
A: Dump her, and face a veritable lifetime of child support?
B: Kick the shit out of the boyfriend (who by the way, was a good sport, once I let him hear the tapes for proof) for getting in the way? Or;
C: Tie her up, put her in the closet, butt fuck her at will until the children start to miss her, then lead her blindfolded through the house to do her chores?


I'm confused.


And so am I. Many a role have I played in the destruction of a marriage, but never before had I been appointed to such a prestigious position in the Office of Problem Solving. Not since Job of the Old Testament, has a man been tried so many ways to question his faith that he resort to asking an admitted boozehound misogynist for advice. Many questions formed in the haze of my clouded mind, such as:


How much life insurance are you carrying on her?
Do you have a valid passport? And
How long would it take for someone to realize she was missing?

If we’ve learned anything from watching fine young men like Scott Peterson and Michael Schiavo squirm in the hot court seat, we see that a little foresight can save you a lot of heartache down the road. Just as you wouldn’t dare drive into uncharted territory without checking the map, we must not foray too far into our emotional wilderness without giving careful thought to every option. Where were the children and I in her head, while she was getting fucked, beaten, and arrested? Can I forgive her this moral transgression? And perhaps most importantly, Where will I put the body?


While a sliver of rational thought still shines in my mind like the sun through a cracked window, friend, the shadows must speak here. Sure, George W. Bush and his cronies will try to paint those Afghani freaks as bad guys, and the Iraqis as wanting democracy, but those Towelheads sure had one thing straight: when their women crossed the line, there was no backslap bitchwhack and assfull of punishment. No, they buried their adulterous wives right up the neck in the Sandpit, and played a different kind of Speedball where the beep of the radar gun was replaced with a dull thud. And this sort of justice has been prevalent for centuries, long before Women’s Suffrage and their puny attempts to break through the Glass Ceilings. Consider the mercy killings of Pakistan, the nose-gashings of our American Indians, and the cigarette burn scars on my current lover’s asscheeks, and you’ll see that men just like you have worn your shoes, walked your path, and when confronted with your dilemma, delivered themselves from Evil just as the Good Lord intended all along.


Understandably, my hack writer status and Internet semi-wish-I-was-but-ain’t-Celebrity status prohibit me from directly conveying my advice, so I’ll speak as clearly as I can. Don’t let your love for your children hold you back. You only have to pay child support if she gets custody, and though I’ve seen a lot of weird shit in my day, I have yet to see a decomposing body cash a check. While your urge to throttle the boyfriend is understood, remember, he was just out for a piece of ass here – he just happened to follow your good lead. Befriend him. Compare notes. See how badly he wants her out of the picture. And as for the closet treatment, admirable, but you don’t want your children thinking that’s the way women are supposed to be treated. Locked in a closet? Sodomized? Blindfolded? You’re sitting on a money machine here, man, a verified harlot with no morals, an alcohol habit, and blatant disregard for her children’s welfare. I’ll spell it out for you – H.O.O.K.E.R. She ain’t gonna make you any money if you keep her in the hole, and if you play your cards right, that assfucking won’t stop until they run out of film.


Don’t get me wrong, friends, I don’t hate all women.


Just the ones that talk. :)