That's it. It's that simple. Those are the two basic rules
when it comes to blowing somebody. I don't care who you are or how great your
technique is; if you're looking for any sort of feedback, or have any doubts
whatsoever, then these are the go to standards for improvement. Not to say that
anyone's doing a less than stellar job out there. Someone who was lying once
said that there's no such thing as a bad blow job. I adhere more to Carlin's
line of thinking: "It's hard to argue with a good blow job".
Now I only bring this up because I'm starting to notice what a powerful proverb this mantra encompasses when applied to the world's general well being. It's kind of the basic formula for what needs to happen socially and politically in order for, I don't know, the survival of our species. Less aggression, malice, ranting, filibustering, feet stomping and pants shitting; enough cry-baby stubbornness that halts progression because it's not your agenda. That's like the child who hates the broccoli on the side, so no one gets to eat steak (I'd actually like to see someone arguing this in the Senate; "Look, steak is good, but we can't have it if there's peas on the same plate. That just can't be dinner! So, because of my deep seated illogical abhorrence of legumes, including my daughter the carob, the king shall not have his feast, and neither will any of you"). It's a baby/bathwater conundrum.
What we need is more Gung-Ho-ness (no, not the infamous Saigon whore). More pro-active, positive energy that uplifts and tantalizes the desire to leave a legacy of pride and reverence. Basically less vagina dentata, and more of the spirit that beat the sideways vaginas.
Now there is a third rule. Really it's more of an addendum, an amendment; a sort of unnecessary bonus level, if you will. I've heard it referred to as 'minding the step-children' or 'having the in-laws over'(?). I'm just going to use what seems to be the most senselessly forgotten part of the Bible and quote the Beatitudes: blessed are the meek.
Now, you don't have to involve the balls in order to perform a great BJ. They can be completely left out, I swear we won't even notice. However, if either you or the lucky recipient should choose to go the full billiard, then the only guideline is to be as gentle as possible. Just pretend that Slugworth has whispered in your ear and you've been entranced by the notion of the treat he described, absorbing all the sweet deliciousness that is the candy flavored outside knowing that you can never reach the center. And if you use your teeth on a gobstopper, then your smile will ensure your future waiting tables at Waffle House.
Speaking of the meek and the grapes, this segues nicely into the Steinbeck-like scenario (though didn't they work on a peach orchard? Oh well, the book's title comes from a song about the coming of the Lord, so...) that has become many people's modern economy (though not mine, or really anyone I'm close to for that matter). People are getting married, having families, working decent jobs, going to school, etc., and they all seem incredibly happy while reaching said accomplishments. Yet somehow, it seems that everyone is mad at the President they so valiantly heralded and triumphed. The problem here is the American dream in general, which has just been simplified to the idea that everyone deserves to be, and will become rich. When for some incomprehensible reason that doesn't happen, then people need to direct their blame and shame towards something tangible that isn't themselves. Despite the ease they feel in blaming a president who ran on a platform of personal responsibility, nothing changes. For many reasons, but the most direct being that they don’t change themselves.
Point being, it's up
to us to make something happen. Personal responsibility is the agenda, and the
only standard worth measuring yourself to. The system is just winners and
losers, and always will be, no matter who has the majority. Whether you're
making another payment on the house you've rightfully earned and/or held on to,
voting for a Democrat in Texas, praying for peace in Israel, or trying to make
someone's eyes see the glory while their testicles grow heavy for the vintage,
just remember: Less Teeth, More Enthusiasm.
Now I only bring this up because I'm starting to notice what a powerful proverb this mantra encompasses when applied to the world's general well being. It's kind of the basic formula for what needs to happen socially and politically in order for, I don't know, the survival of our species. Less aggression, malice, ranting, filibustering, feet stomping and pants shitting; enough cry-baby stubbornness that halts progression because it's not your agenda. That's like the child who hates the broccoli on the side, so no one gets to eat steak (I'd actually like to see someone arguing this in the Senate; "Look, steak is good, but we can't have it if there's peas on the same plate. That just can't be dinner! So, because of my deep seated illogical abhorrence of legumes, including my daughter the carob, the king shall not have his feast, and neither will any of you"). It's a baby/bathwater conundrum.
What we need is more Gung-Ho-ness (no, not the infamous Saigon whore). More pro-active, positive energy that uplifts and tantalizes the desire to leave a legacy of pride and reverence. Basically less vagina dentata, and more of the spirit that beat the sideways vaginas.
Now there is a third rule. Really it's more of an addendum, an amendment; a sort of unnecessary bonus level, if you will. I've heard it referred to as 'minding the step-children' or 'having the in-laws over'(?). I'm just going to use what seems to be the most senselessly forgotten part of the Bible and quote the Beatitudes: blessed are the meek.
Now, you don't have to involve the balls in order to perform a great BJ. They can be completely left out, I swear we won't even notice. However, if either you or the lucky recipient should choose to go the full billiard, then the only guideline is to be as gentle as possible. Just pretend that Slugworth has whispered in your ear and you've been entranced by the notion of the treat he described, absorbing all the sweet deliciousness that is the candy flavored outside knowing that you can never reach the center. And if you use your teeth on a gobstopper, then your smile will ensure your future waiting tables at Waffle House.
Speaking of the meek and the grapes, this segues nicely into the Steinbeck-like scenario (though didn't they work on a peach orchard? Oh well, the book's title comes from a song about the coming of the Lord, so...) that has become many people's modern economy (though not mine, or really anyone I'm close to for that matter). People are getting married, having families, working decent jobs, going to school, etc., and they all seem incredibly happy while reaching said accomplishments. Yet somehow, it seems that everyone is mad at the President they so valiantly heralded and triumphed. The problem here is the American dream in general, which has just been simplified to the idea that everyone deserves to be, and will become rich. When for some incomprehensible reason that doesn't happen, then people need to direct their blame and shame towards something tangible that isn't themselves. Despite the ease they feel in blaming a president who ran on a platform of personal responsibility, nothing changes. For many reasons, but the most direct being that they don’t change themselves.
