Showing posts with label humiliation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humiliation. Show all posts

Code pink


The Germans have come up with a clever way of reforming their hardened criminals. By incarcerating them in bright pink cells, they hope to curb their aggressive impulses and cultivate their fluffy feminine side. Critics of the policy argue that the convicts will feel humiliated, deepening their resentment towards society. It’s a fair point. Perhaps they should be given a choice between living in pink cells or being buggered with an iron poker. Then they could select the option which causes them less umbrage. 

As a gorilla, I have a great deal of sympathy for humiliating punishments. In the words of Old Melonhead the Wise, “Tis better to humiliate a rival than bite off his goolies.” This is especially true in the world of homo sapiens, where humility is scarce and the quantity of bollocks is relatively stable. The guilty have nothing to be proud of, so make them feel humble to purge their souls. They can always regain their self-esteem by doing good deeds and learning how to knit. 

Most German men have humiliation fantasies anyway. That’s obvious from their pornography, which frequently depicts submissive men being bullied by large, sexually voracious women. When Boris Becker impregnated a waitress in a restaurant, he made sure everyone knew about the short duration of their coupling, which apparently lasted no longer than 10 seconds. Is that the kind of detail an arrogant, macho fellow would share with the world? And let’s not forget Stefan Moses, the kinky photographer who showed people naked pictures of himself so he could draw attention to his puny appendage. 

Some forms of humiliation are clearly below the belt, though. I thump my hairy chest in indignation whenever humans reveal the bedroom secrets of their ex-lovers. Remember the blonde actress Sondra Locke, the former on-screen and off-screen partner of Clint Eastwood? When she and Clint parted company, she wrote a book about their life together. Accorded to Sondra, Clint would say “Sweetie, did you floss?” whenever he wanted to have sex. This ugly revelation made everyone wonder whether Clint enjoyed licking a woman’s teeth during coitus. When asked to comment on the book he remained tight-lipped, possibly to avoid drawing attention to his own teeth. 

The danger of jilted humans seeking revenge on their jilters has been recognised by Facebook, which has banned naked photos from its network. Also banned are pictures of urine, vomit, semen and ear wax. I think they’ve gone too far with ear wax. No one should be ashamed about what comes out of their ears, which is difficult to distinguish from guacamole in any case. 

Semen is a more delicate question. One might argue that a man who allows a woman to get hold of his ejaculate should take it on the chin if she later displays pictures of it in Facebook. There’s no point crying over spilled milk. But what if she doctors the semen by adding pepper or cumin, to make it look nasty and unpalatable? It could ruin a man’s sex life. 


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Wearing the trousers


My females cackled their heads off on hearing that Elton John described himself as a modern woman in a radio interview. They took this to mean that he was trying to suckle baby Zachary, an idea which they found hilarious. I suppose it might be possible with the aid of a baby-formula breast implant, but I found their banter distasteful. 

“You silly flea-bags!” I exclaimed. “A man can’t allow a baby to suck his nipples! That would be unlawful abuse of a minor!” 

They snorted and broke wind at my assertion. Female gorillas don’t hide their emotions when they’re confounded or disgruntled. 

“How can he be abusing the baby if he’s having his nipples sucked?” they asked. “The passive one can’t be the abuser!” 

“Technicalities like that aren’t important,” I explained. “You can only give a human baby a nipple to suck if it’s attached to a woman or made of an authorised rubbery substance.” 

They grunted irritably before wandering off to look for a baboon to molest. 

Elton’s statement had nothing to do with breast-feeding, of course. When a man in a gay relationship admits to being the woman, it’s pretty obvious what he’s getting at. Frankly, I don’t see why Elton felt the urge to disclose this information on air. Do fans of his music really need to know that he’s the one biting the pillow? And aren’t gay men supposed to take turns in a healthy relationship? Perhaps he made the statement to suck up to his partner David Furnish, who was sitting right next to him in the radio studio. Mr Furnish was quick to back Elton up (so to speak). 

“I am the one who wears the trousers!” he declared, putting the matter beyond all doubt or ambiguity. 

It’s strange that a gay man should take pride in wearing such a conventional garment. Maybe he thinks he has a macho image to protect. I just hope he doesn’t expect Elton to iron and press them, like a good little housewife. There are limits to what a world-famous pop star should do to massage the ego of his other half.

Yet the psychological importance of trousers to the human male should never be underestimated. Long gone are the days of the bare-legged hero, flaunting his waxed limbs in the Roman amphitheatre. There are few places left on Earth where a trouserless man can walk with his head held high. 

This vulnerability was recently exploited by the German police, who frogmarched a suspect to the station with his trousers around his ankles. Having threatened to kill five hostages in a bungled bank robbery, he is now suing the police for humiliating him. The police pointed out that they had pulled his sweater over his head to preserve his anonymity. Few men are recognisable from their bare legs alone. 

Although the man deserves to win his civil suit, I hope he isn’t awarded monetary damages. Were I the presiding judge, I would knock a week off his prison term as compensation. 

“You will now have cause to be grateful to the police for an extra week of liberty,” I would say to him. “I hope you have the good manners to write them a thank-you note.” 

A moderate dose of humiliation can be good for the soul of a scoundrel.

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