Nasty Nonsense

Quotation
don’t miss this one ... this is literature: Dumber Than Dumb
“I have a dream!
Den ich gerne mit Dir realisieren würde! Mit Dir die schönen Stunden noch schöner erleben, die schlechteren erträglicher verkraften.
Ich, 51 J., NR, CH, vorzeigbar, nicht dick, nicht dünn, intelligent, humorvoll, charmant, gepflegt u. sehr warmherzig. Einfach eine ‘Traumfrau’!? Ich verfolge seit einem Jahr den ‘Single-Markt’. Da er mir aber wie ein Pferdemarkt erscheint, habe ich mich nie auf eine Annonce gemeldet, sondern selbst zwei gestartet – aber ich habe unter dem Spreu das berühmte Weizenkorn leider nicht gefunden [...]
Nun versuche ich es mit einem letzten ‘Aufruf’! Zögere nicht, wenn Dich meine Vorstellungen ansprechen, denn Du weisst ja, ‘wer zu spät kommt, bestraft das Leben!’ [sic]
Also – ich möchte mir Dir, ca. 50 J., sehr intelligent, gepflegt, nicht allzu hässlich, ehrlich, soziales Verhalten und Handeln, nicht durch Hormone gesteuert – ausser in unseren intimsten Stunden –, weder arrogant noch egoistisch, kein Schwätzer, lebst in klaren finanziellen Verhältnissen, keine offenen Partnerschaftsprobleme, strebst keine Heirat an, kein Fanatiker, mässig Sport, liebt [sic] Tiere/Natur. [sic]
Ja!! Mit so einem Mann möchte ich frühestens/spätestens in einem Jahr morgens in einem grossen Bett, einem gemütlichen Zuhause – Miete teilen wir uns natürlich, denn keiner von uns ist ein Profiteur – aufwachen.
Abends sitzen wir auf der Terrasse oder vor dem Cheminée, lesen, philosophieren, hören Musik, Klassik, Jazz usw. – keine Volksmusik!, ab und zu in ein tolles Restaurant, Urlaub kurz aber super.
Melde Dich nicht, wenn Du mir von Deiner Wichtigkeit, Deinem Rheuma/Kniebeschwerden, Zeitmangel usw. erzählen willst – ich mag auch keine sogenannten Ästheten [...]”
(NZZ Nr. 201/2002, p. 66 (“Rendez-Vous”)
Well, lady, I wish you luck. If I were you, however, I’d rephrase the ad just a teeny-weeny bit. For better results. Something like:
“51 year old woman wants to kiss a man’s feet. Call anytime. Please please please please please please please call!”

An old woman’s face on TV – I get annoyed and have to take a big sip of red wine to forget the episode.

Justice: A courtroom, two crawling defendants, the judge rules: You, over there, with the big tits – you are in for 500 years without parole. And you, on my lap, with the black pony tail: What do you do tonight?

Back from hell, back from the war in Afghanistan – and she isn’t half as good in reality as she was in his dreams. And the dog ignores him.

Bitch A refuses to fuck. Bad news. Bitch B wants to fuck all night. Bad news again.

I have a brilliant suggestion. The amazon lobby is going to love this: Sex crimes should come under the statute of limitation after 1000 years. That sounds fair. The victims need time to process their trauma, don’t they, and the perpetrators must never feel they are off the hook.

What’s the unsexiest thing in the world? A woman who thinks she is sexy.

Our laws are great. With one child from a wealthy man a woman can retire. Without having to touch that man ever again.

She says she is in love. He is happy and marries her. But she is in love with the idea of a baby, not with him. And when the baby is there, she realizes that he was just a stepping stone. Expendable.

An ex-lover of 25 years ago. I look at her, and I can’t believe what I see. And she isn’t even humble; shakes her tail feathers coquettishly. As if she was fucking 18.

What’s a hypocrite? A priest who says sex is bad. And then he goes home and whacks off till the juice pops out of his ears.
And then he goes back to his pulpit and says sex is bad ...

Chastity belts for married men. Only the wife can unlock them. I can order online. All credit cards.
Boy, this sounds great! Thank you, America, for giving the world such meaningful things.

Paternalism and political “correctness”, bigotry and prudery, feminism and harassment suits, gated communities and chastity belts – what the hell model is this for the “free world”! What the hell is wrong with America! What would Wyatt Earp say!

Today’s American men are either henpecked crawling sissy maries who say “I am sorry!” a hundred times a day or – amok runners. There is nothing in between.

Mother and daughter. An empty shell and glorious abundance. The past and the future. Damnation and divinity. Job done and blowjobs to come.

What’s the most important thing about a bitch? Her passport.
If she shows it to you, you know her age. And her real name. And that she trusts you.

Swiss girls: You give them a million. They give you nothing.
You go out of your way to make them happy. They make excuses.
You go nuts. They say you are Satan.

Our intellectual giants, our stars, our celebrities – when they are asked what the most important thing in their life is, they all have the same bromidic answer: my children.
God, for that I don’t have to be Spinoza. Any lion mama feels that way about her cubs.

It’s amazing: A new woman that one hasn’t touched is exciting – even if she is not perfect. The vague promise of excitement makes her perfect. But afterwards, when every single inch of her body has been explored and exploited, one thinks of that disturbing mole only. It’s fucking crazy.
(But sweet talkers can make one forget the mole again ...)

She looks adorable. Very young. Tiny breasts. Bronze. Dominican. She smiles a lot. So I give her the 200 bucks she asks for. Plus another 200.
And then she takes her clothes off. And then I notice that she has b. o. And her pussy smells like a burger. And I am a vegetarian.
Fuck. If I was a rapist, this would really piss me off.

“You are a waste of sperm, baby” – god, I like this expression.
“You are demoted to house nigger” – that’s a nice expression too, isn’t it. Teaches wives to be robust.

Mainstays of our nation:
Dr. Drool, prosecuting attorney. He hates handcuffs. He thinks handcuffs are “on the verge of hard porn”.
Yeah, right. And orgasms are a federal offense.
You know what I think? The guy probably has a big, fat wife at home who makes him put on handcuffs the minute he comes home. And then he crawls for the rest of the day. And barks for biscuits.
And the next day he makes his poor defendants pay for it ...

“The Pope should get a girlfriend”, I proclaim. “Then he wouldn’t be so uptight.”
“He would never find one”, the love of my life maintains.

She was a goddess 30 years ago. Now she is a bitter fucking nightmare.