Saturday, February 7, 2015

The Dancing Bear

In a desperate ploy to postpone doing taxes as I promised myself on this Saturday afternoon, a more pleasing thought occurred...write a blog. As nothing within my soul screamed out for expression, I did a free form association to plumb the depths of my subconscious for a topic. The phrase that came up was "the dancing bear."

With no idea why this particular three word phrase ticker-taped across my brain, I Googled the phrase and Lord Amighty, what did I find but a site with the words in it "the dancing bear," which I clicked on.

Suffice it to say that after I left that site and Googled once again, there were plenty of videos of real live bears doing all sorts of cute maneuvers, embellished by the soundtracks of rappers. But the first click of the mouse had given way to a site in la-la-land: bachlorette parties with girls giving blow jobs to men with the biggest thangies one could ever imagine (think horse).

In the background were all sorts of "nice" girls enjoying the revelry of a pre-marriage party; a place where all sorts of no-nos were permitted. These were not seedy images from a red-light district in Tokyo, etc. The background environment looked like the average middle-class household with average marriage-age average women. 

Besides being surprised that an innocent phrase like "the dancing bear" could lead me into this sordid world, I realized that a "cookie" might be implanted in my computer that would lead me in a Dante's hell realm of never-ending porno sites popping up on my computer. Exit stage left.

Maybe I'm a square or from unknown Puritan decent, but these types of activities don't do much for me. How about turning this into a social cause then: poor dudes with horse thangies are being exploited like circus animals to perform for hordes of bored twenty-somethings. Maybe they should make a bumper sticker: "Men with Horse Thangies Unite."

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