Famous Last Words

One of my all time favorite dying quote is Oscar Wilde’s, "Either this wallpaper goes, or I do." The hideous wallpaper stuck around for a few years longer than Oscar, although both are now long gone. If your passion for dying quotes gets the better of you, here are a couple of website links with last word compilations.

I’ve always been pretty certain what my last words were going to be, whether it be illness, age or accident, I shall go out on the excremental expletive – "Oh Shit!" I haven’t really considered the metaphoric implications of a scatological departure from life, although the thought of my soul being crapped into eternity amuses me. No, my last words are not based on any metaphoric artistic overreaching, "Oh Shit!" is just pretty much what pops out of my mouth when things don’t go my way. Craving immortality, death is right up there on the top of my list of things I don’t want to have happen to me.

If you’ve got this far, you may be asking, "What the fuck does this have to do with the American Orgy?" Well, don’t be so fucking impatient – here it is. The fucking French refer to the orgasm as la petite mort, the little death, which got me thinking about my favorite last words, those spontaneous utterances emerging from the mouths of the recently orgasmed.

I’ve always loved women who deified me, scream praying to "Jesus Christ," "Christ," "God," "Oh God," "Oh My God," even the occasional "My Lord." (I assume I have avoided the utterances of Electra complex suffering women, since no one has ever blurted out "Oh God My Eternal Father," but there is still time. Also, I must need to screw more Asian chicks, because I’ve yet to be called Buddha – either that or I have to stop working out and get more of a belly. )  Yet, it is no coincidence that "Jesus Christ" and "God" are on the lips of both the dying and the orgasmic.

On a more temporal, but dangerous note, last words are often proper names. The danger of course is that the name you scream won’t be the real life person giving it to you. Understanding and pride that comes from being called God disappears with the utterance of "Oh Harold" and your name is "Wanker."

If I were a non-monogamous Social Darwinist, the exquisite danger of uttering the wrong name explains several things: 1) the high reproductive capacity of the religious who mask their infidelities in prayers to God; 2) the reproductive capacity of the profane (those who simply yell "Fuck" a lot while they are coming; 3) the prevalence of both children and men named "Jesus" in Latin culture; and 4) the otherwise inexplicable reproductive capabilities of stupid people, who survive due to the non-evolution past the brain stem, leaving only the sex drive and the non-verbal death rattle of orgasmic gurglings of pleasure, not the names of others.

To prove my Social Darwinist theory, I give you a news flash from a child support service located in the same county as some abstinence crazed fundamentalists: A rash of male members of the this fundamentalist abstinence species are claiming they could not be the sires of screaming little newborns, because they were virgins. They’ve never had intercourse. The most they’ve ever done sexually is soaking.

"Soaking" is apparently a phenomenon of Clinton-ian line drawing on the definition of sex and chastity for the abstinence challenged. For those unaware of the religious ability to justify sinful action, the legal/theological argument is as follows:

Given: You must commit fornication or adultery to lose your virginity and sin.
Given: A fundamental aspect of fornication and adultery is sex, defined specifically and very narrowly as the "old in-and-out".
Given: Blow jobs, anal sex, gay sex, frottage, and mutual masturbation do not involve the old penis-vagina, in-and-out, these activities are therfore not defined as "sex" for purposes of determining whether virginity is lost.
Given: Orgasm is irrelevant to a determination of whether or not sex has occurred. (Wet dreams aren’t sex are they?)
Therefore, although it requires going in once and coming out once, if you just go in, soak for awhile before you come out, that isn’t sex as long as you don’t move while you are in the tub.

Of course these definitions allow for a fairly active sex life, while maintaining virginal and religious purity, so the logical and philosophical weakness isn’t really all that important. What is important is that you can soak.

Now, while I appreciate a good rationalization like any other sinner, there are a couple of practical concerns that arise out of the "soaking" phenomenon.

First, obviously, given the natural inclination, it appears that there is more jetted tub action going on, as opposed to simple soaking.

Second, what about the girls in all this? Can you massage the clit while you are soaking? Is birth control forbidden in soaking to avoid the appearance of evil? Isn’t the term "soaking" a patriarchal term, concerned only about what is happening to the male? Our feminist sisters would probably demand calling it, "drawing a bath to allow some soaking" or some other politically correct phrase. Being a neanderthal male, I’ll defer to you to give me the proper, non-sexist phrase for soaking.

Third, from a practical standpoint, soaking appears to be a compliment to the young fertile co-eds ability to conjure up a warm bath for the male.

Fourth, are the restrictions for male homosexuals more rigid than than their hetro counterparts? Does soaking apply to gay blow jobs and anal sex, but not hetro-butt fucking and cock sucking? These are questions that keep me up at night.

Fifth, and what about the poor lesbians? Can they only soak in their dildos, while their hetro-believers can rubber fuck themselves silly?

Sixth, I couldn't be a proper degenerate without a nod to the bestial. I think the picture speaks for itself, but will an elephant agree to just soak?

With all these questions, I’d ask for some guidance from the more religiously astute, but rigid (wrong word) pronouncements aren’t conducive to allowing wiggle (yet another wrong word) room. So as a nod to the Soakers, I thought I’d give you some ideas for naming your new offspring:

Tubby or Tubs (self explanatory)
Jack (Short for Jacuzzi)
Pruney (A girls name, indicative of what happens if you spend too much time soaking.)
Bathsheba (Biblical, ironic and a bath reference, too)
John (Short for John the Baptist, another guy who soaked people, including Jesus no less.)

Now, I love soaking. Don’t get me wrong, I think it is a great concept. We’ld all be happier if we spent more time drawing baths and soaking. I’m not even opposed to KY or AstroGlide soaking. Soaking is prolonging. Soaking is luxuriating in the experience. Soaking is best without a wet suit, but not as safe. Soak me silly, but when the water starts splashing around and my balls are taking a shower and I’m about to shoot my own contribution to the watery grave of orgasm, I say what I’m sure I’ll always say when I die, when great things are about to come to the end — "Oh Shit!"

And in the immortal last words of Hamlet: "The rest is silence."