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                   DONÕT  TELL  ANYONE  THAT  WE  HAD  SEX,  OKAY?


                             (IÕm practising to be president - h.j.)

                                      Andrew Roller Presents
                                              FUCK DECENCY

                              Sponsored by:  Innocent Interns, Inc.
                                                       1-800-HOT TWAT

                                              Issue No. 341

                                   Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in 
                                           Dungeon of Desire

                                              Chapter Three

         ÒI am not cocky, just protecting a Lady,Ó my Officer replied.
         ÒToss me a blade, then, fool.  You can spend the rest of your life 
making cheap porn after youÕve sewn yourself back on!Ó Sauron bellowed.  
His voice was quite sinister.  My Officer, accepting the challenge, in all 
his aspects, tossed a silver sword to Sauron.
         My belly plummeted inside when Sauron expertly caught the tossed 
blade by its handle.
         Three heads had appeared from the bedroom door.  Two females, as 
IÕd suspected, and a male.  Obviously the second male was another Officer.  
One of the girls rushed out from the safety of the bedroom and ran to a 
low table which stood next to the wall where the swords had hung.  There, 
arranged decoratively, were leather fencing gloves.
         ÒWait!  You must have these--and pants also!Ó the girl cried.  She had 
long honey-blonde hair that swirled round her as she tried desperately to 
outfit her boyfriend in safety.
         ÒNo!  I need nothing,Ó my Officer, her Officer too, I guessed, replied.
         ÒGive me the gloves,Ó Sauron said.  ÒI need not cut my hands dealing 
with this cocksure urchin.Ó  The girl, hesitant, at last threw him a pair of 
gloves.  His gaze was too malevolent to cross, armed with anything less 
than a cock and a sword.  She had neither.
         Slipping the gloves on, tying them behind each of his wrists with the 
help of Katy, and me also, drafted in his service, Sauron laughed out loud 
and sneered at my would-be savior.  ÒDo you not know, son, that I am a 
retired military officer?  I will teach you a thing or two about fencing!  
And your dick also!  I taught fencing at the Academy!Ó
         Serving my Master as obediently as I must, I nonetheless managed a 
quick glance at my Officer friend.  He seemed a little pale, realizing his 
odds were not as heÕd supposed them.  
         Sauron flourished his sword as soon as he had his gloves on.  My 
savior, still abstaining from any protection whatever, held his sword 
bare-handed.  ÒNow I will make quick work of your cock,Ó Sauron laughed.
         ÒPlease, DONÕT!Ó I cried.  He looked at me and might have slapped me 
but Katy hit my face first, with her palm.  I howled and tears stung my 
cheeks.  She grabbed me anew by my collar and held me tightly against her.  
         ÒDo you like him?  Yes?  Watch as Your Master cuts him down to 
size,Ó Katy laughed in my ear.  I could do nothing.  In horror I watched as 
Sauron advanced on my Officer.
         ÒStop!  What are you doing?Ó I heard shouted from the end of the 
hall, where the stairs were.  It was Miriam.
         Sauron ignored her.  And, nobly, resisting any attempt to save him, 
so did my Officer.
         ÒWould you like your balls cut off also?Ó Sauron asked with obvious 
glee.  
         ÒI should ask the same of you, I think,Ó my Officer replied.
         ÒI at least have the good sense to not be erect,Ó Sauron said, 
admiring a little, I think, the length and breadth of his opponentÕs cock.  
ÒPerhaps you would like to jerk yourself off, first.  I will wait.  It will 
not save you, but it will make you look like the jerk-off you really are,Ó 
Sauron laughed.
         My Officer made no reply.  Instead he held his silver sword aloft, 
waiting for the duel to begin.
         ÒVery well, then.  They should have castrated you Citadel nerds 
during Hell week, instead of making a man of the Academy do it for them,Ó 
Sauron snarled.  And he struck.  Below the belt, quite illegally, aiming to 
undo my savior in one fell swoop.
         Like Luke facing Darth Vader, my Officer somehow avoided the blow, 
bringing his sword quickly down and countering it.  Yet, watching, my 
knees trembling uncontrollably, my nipples on my heavy breasts 
tremulous, I remembered how the Jedi sword fight in Star Wars turned 
out.  Obi Wan died at DarthÕs hand, and Luke lost his hand.  
         My Officer boyfriend parried SauronÕs next blow, and his next, and 
then struck back with a swift slice of his own.  Somehow his sword 
glanced off SauronÕs leather glove (of his sword hand) and cut into his 
arm.  Sauron, looking down, stared in shock as the superficial wound began 
bleeding.  Then, bellowing, glaring in hatred at my would-be savior, he 
struck in a fury of blows.  Each one, I was sure, would undo my Officer 
forever.  Yet, when the flurry of thrusts subsided, my hero had only a 
slight cut on his unprotected hand.  His organ still stood firm and tall, 
sticking itself boldly forth.  It seemed oblivious to the danger it faced.

                                              COMMENTARY
                                                by holy joe

         Now, letÕs face it.  A ripe young thing is wiggling around the 
White House and youÕre president.  WhatÕs the point of being president 
if you donÕt get to fuck some hot ass?
         Really, America.  Have you forgotten how guysÕ brains work?  The 
*only* reason most guys do anything is so they can meet girls.  And 
youÕre absolutely right; I did not say:  the only reason most guys do 
anything is so they can meet 50-year-old women.  
         Sure, maybe the Intern is only a few years older than ClintonÕs 
daughter.  But thatÕs just how guysÕ brains are.  Men are designed to 
want young, reproductively healthy females.  Why?  Because a femaleÕs 
child-bearing years end around age 35.  In previous eras, a femaleÕs 
ability to reproduce probably ended at an even younger age.  So, to quote 
Ann Taylor Fleming:  Òthe younger the better.Ó
         This is not the case with female desire, however.  What does a 
female need, sexually?  A female needs a big, strong man who can 
protect her young.  The last thing she wants is some little boy.  HeÕd 
just get clobbered by a male rival, or eaten by a lion.  (Staying, for a 
moment, with the situation as it was in previous eras.)  In the case of a 
man, his ability to reproduce does not end at age 35.  A man can get a 
female pregnant even when heÕs 70-years-old.
         See how that works?  Men want the youngest female possible, 
because her reproductive years are limited.  Females, on the other hand, 
need not worry about a man being too old to sire offspring.  What they 
must worry about is:  is he big and strong enough, and savvy enough, to 
protect the babies I bear him?
         Sorry, ladies, but you just donÕt have what us guys need!  Maybe 
modern medicine can help you, but still, even if it does extend your 
reproductive years, how will a Ômedical fixÕ erase millions of years of 
evolutionary conditioning out of guysÕ minds?
         Plus, girls are more fun to be with than women.  They have better 
bodies, for one thing.  And for another thing, ask yourself this:  would 
most guys rather have a blonde airhead who thinks about bubblegum all 
day, or some hard-bitten, hard-assed female prosecutor?  I have yet to 
see a single porno magazine titled:  ÒFemale ProsecutorsÓ.  A feminist 
might say, ÒthatÕs just porn.Ó  True, but porn isnÕt free.  Us guys spend 
our hard-earned money on porn!  So, not only are girlsÕ bodies better 
than womensÕ bodies, but their minds are more fun too! 
         Let me explain the mental aspect again:  1.  Guys do not think 
about bubblegum all day.  2.  Women do not think about bubblegum all 
day.  3.  Girls DO think about bubblegum all day.  (Or equally frivolous 
matters.)  Hence, girls are more fun to be with, even from the mental 
perspective.  Because they are *different*.  Hanging around with a 
woman, on the other hand, is like hanging around with another man.  
(Except, in the case of a woman, she whines a lot.)
         I can feel the chill that is currently running up the backs of 
women reading this essay.  They know that while girls might think 
about bubblegum a lot, thatÕs not, in fact, all a girl thinks about.  She 
will also know many other things, since she is in tune with the modern 
world, as it exists at this moment.  She will know all the new games, 
and toys, and all the current names of all the dinosaurs, plus all the 
latest songs.  She will be like the doctor who just graduated from 
medical school, and knows all the latest procedures.  A woman, on the 
other hand, is like the doctor who graduated years ago, and is still 
sticking with the old methods.  So girls, in addition to thinking about 
fun, frivolous things (like bubblegum) are also better educated than 
women.  (WhenÕs the last time you actually read Romeo and Juliet, 
ladies?)
         Hence, the question, properly framed, is not:  What do we, as a 
society, do with men?  The question is:  What do we, as a society, do 
with women over 35?
         Suggestions, anyone?
         I know what youÕre thinking:  Joe, your ideas are pretty great.  
What if you ran for president, and we all elected you?  Would you wind 
up embarrassing us, like Clinton has?
         Let me lay out for you exactly what I will do as your president.  
You will note, first and foremost, that I am not trying to remain 
Òpolitically viable within the system.Ó  
         Now, on the matter of women:  First of all, I have nothing against 
women.  If a woman is competent to, say, run NASA, fine.  She can run 
NASA.  IÕm not getting in bed with her, but she can run NASA.
         Next, there *will* be gays in the military.  At one time, when the 
military was all men, one might have argued, ÒWe canÕt let gays in.  
What if a gay wants to fuck another guy, and he says Ôno,Õ and so, in 
revenge, heÕs not promoted?Ó  That might have been a good argument at 
one time.  But now, with women in the military, a guy might not get 
promoted because he turned down the sexual advances of a female 
superior.  (You know, the ÔrealÕ reason he didnÕt get that promotion.)  Or 
a female might be denied a promotion because she turned down a male 
superiorÕs sexual advances.
         Hence, there is no reason to keep gays out of the military 
anymore, since the ÔproblemsÕ they might cause, sexually, are no worse 
than the everyday problems currently occurring in the military between 
women and men.  
         Next, we will have pedophiles and communists in the military, 
because a) a ÔpedophileÕ is simply a guy with a young girlfriend and b) 
an American ought to be able to belong to any political party he wants 
to belong to.
         Next, I will abolish all of AmericaÕs drug laws.  If someone wants 
to get stoned, and it doesnÕt affect his work or his driving, he will be 
able to get stoned.
         I could go on, but by now you may be experiencing a panic attack.  
What will Americans do, if everyone can go about their business in life 
and not be hassled by dumb laws?  What will people have left to talk 
about?  Who will they have left to hate?  (Very important, for 
Americans.)
         My answer is:  I donÕt know.  Maybe Americans will have to learn 
how to mind their own business again.  Maybe they will have to learn 
what Òa bookÓ is, instead of just glueing their minds to trash T.V. for 
seven hours a day.  (ÔAmericaÕs Most Wanted,Õ and all that.)  I realize 
that by liberating Americans from their petty jealousies and fears I am 
seriously damaging my presidential prospects.  But, at least, in my 
case, you can comfort yourself with two facts:  
         a)  I wonÕt tell you IÕve Òhad problems in my marriage.Ó  I donÕt 
even have a girlfriend.  And,
         b)  I wonÕt be fucking some 22-year-old Intern.  In my opinion, 
sheÕs too old!


         ÒIf this is crap there is plenty more where that came from,Ó 
writes Gary Brown, c/o State Mental Hospital, 187 Santa Barbara, 
Irvine, CA 92606.

                                       The laughing Academy
                                             by Gary Brown

Albert Hall.

It was while living the life of a vagrant
that Albert came to understand the true meaning
of violence and intolerance.
  
On the streets of Mercuria 
there are few things 
that are more destructive 
to the soul 
than loneliness, 
Albert was alone most of the time.
  
Alcohol helped to ease the pain 
of living but it only proved 
to be a temporary respite.  
Regardless of all the odds 
he managed to retain a shallow 
semblance of sanity 
although he made a game 
of outwardly acting 
in a deranged manner.
  
He even managed 
to write a chorus 
to a song 
that heretofore had remained 
trapped in his obsessive thoughts:

         ÒViolence and loneliness they get all the blame,
         while life in the academy remains just the same.Ó

The outcome of this dubious song 
writing event 
presented Albert with an extraordinarily 
difficult problem; 
his whole persona 
became like Rudolf Hess 
hopelessly incarcerated 
in Spandau prison.
  
Everybody involved 
with the prisoner 
berated the audience 
using endless emissions 
of cerebral injustice, 
but they secretly supported 
the process 
by sliding through life 
as if they were freaks 
from a carnival of broken stereotypes.

I remember meeting Albert 
that splendid morning, 
we were bathed 
in the anorexic sunlight 
of winter 
and divided before the world 
like an undisciplined army 
marching through the garden 
of a man called George.  
The silence of our momentum 
roared 
but nobody heard it 
because they were busy 
trying to avoid 
the shallow nebulosity 
associated with materialism 
in a culture of recalcitrant children. 

                                             AND IN THE END...

         Never mind the Intern.  IÕm worried about the dog.


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