Scurrilous talk


A Brazilian woman has been fined a hefty sum for ridiculing the sexual performance of her husband. It probably serves her right, although one can’t be certain without knowing the sordid details. The ridicule would have been entirely justified if he’d attempted to pleasure her with a cucumber, like that dirty old eunuch in Malaysia. But I doubt that sort of thing goes on in Brazil. Such dastardly deeds tend to happen in countries where wives are too embarrassed to make a fuss about husbands who penetrate them with vegetables.

In all probability, the man just didn’t know what she wanted. I have no sympathy for women who complain to third parties about such frustrations. I remember, back in my circus days, hearing words of discontent from a female acrobat about her boyfriend’s erotic endeavours. You might think it was a strange confidence to share with a gorilla, but it’s often easier for humans to discuss such personal matters with someone from a different species. I’m sure many cats are bored to tears by similar revelations from their mistresses. Anyway, my response to her grievance was devoid of pity:

“There’s no point complaining to me about it!” I declared tartly. “Have you given him precise instructions? Have you drawn helpful diagrams? Have you shown him articles in Cosmopolitan describing what modern women want in bed? You can’t expect a dog to perform tricks without proper training.”

The girl was forced to accept the logic of my argument, and proceeded to give the fellow a crash course in how to satisfy her desires. I was led to believe that he passed with flying colours.

Now, the motives of the Brazilian woman in belittling her husband were clearly much darker. She couldn’t have been lashing out in frustration, because the record indicates that she was fornicating with her driving instructor at the same time. A woman who is receiving expert service from a tradesman has no reason to complain about her husband’s lack of prowess. If you’re getting your oats from Tom, it shouldn’t matter that Dick is unable to provide them. I suspect she was using her husband’s alleged ineptitude as an excuse for her own misdeeds. A cuckold receives no mercy from those who have wronged him.

It’s an ugly habit of humans to cast aspersions on others to divert attention from their own peccadilloes. It reminds me of J. Edgar Hoover investigating the sex lives of the Kennedy clan when he himself was dressing up like a fairy queen and fluttering his eyelids at any square-jawed special agent in the vicinity. If only he’d had the courage to say:

“Yes, I like to wear women’s clothes and consort with men who treat me like a lady. It is my free choice as an American. In admitting this, I immunize myself against blackmail from villains intent on emasculating my determination to bring them to justice!”

A statement like that, from the director of the FBI, would have made America a safer country for its citizens.


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