By now, you’ve probably read about the guy who went on a killing spree at a women’s aerobics class.  He was lonely.  Isolated.  Deprived of sex for over 18 years.  Angry at the world.  He blamed women for his sexual frustrations.

Dan Savage wrote an excellent column addressing this incident.  [Please, please, please click on the link and read all about it -- the man truly is so wise.]

In short, Dan suggested that the killer should have gone to see sex workers years before the frustration accumulated.  The tragedy may have been averted “if we, as a society, valued sex workers and sex work, if we legalized and regulated it, and if we viewed ‘paying for it’ as a legitimate option for guys who would otherwise go without for decades.”

At first I was like, Yeah!  Amen!  Stipends for hiring hookers should be a part of any economic stimulus package! 

But then I thought, do I really want to fuck these guys?  I may get struck by lightning for saying this, but he’s actually not bad looking.  He’s not someone I’d reject purely on looks.  This is the scary part: it’s what you can’t see on the inside that’s dangerous.  You never know when you might have a serial killer on your hands.

That’s why I instituted a new policy for new customers: I open the door and greet them with a Chinese meat cleaver in my right hand.  I want to send out the right message, right away.  Don’t fuck with Cassandra. 

Once we get into the bedroom, I put the meat cleaver down and pick up my compact semi-automatic Smith & Wesson handgun. 

What are you looking at?  I would sneer at him.  I’d then point the gun at the guy’s head.

Get down on your knees and suck my cock!

Pretty funny fantasy… OK, I’ll admit it: I’m stoned as I’m writing this.  Remember that one guy, Mr. Wilford Brimley, who I turned down for sex a couple weeks ago.  Can you imagine if he came back with a gun and threatened to shoot me unless I fucked him?

Cassandra, he would say, fuck me now!  Fuck me or otherwise I’ll shoot you!

Now, I’m going to drop my pants and bend over real slowly.  You just stick it in there.  You got me?

Don’t forget I still have the gun in my hand.  If I don’t feel you inside me in the next minute, I’m going to shoot you.

Fuck me NOW, Cassandra!

The gun’s loaded!  Don’t make me shoot you…  Are you inside me yet? 

Oww Oww… That hurts. 

Take it all out and then stick it back in slowly. 

Now!  Take it out take it out IT HURTS!

Ooooh OOohh Oh [audible short and heavy breaths]. 

Ease it back in REAL SLOWLY! 

STOP! 

Don’t fuck with me Cassandra I got a gun!

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Tags: Add new tag, culture, Pot Fantasies