Warning, Do Not Go There

A Geezer’s Notebook, By Jim Foster

I hate to kick a man when his pants are down but I am fascinated by the plight of Neil Ferguson, a British epidemiologist, one of the brilliant people working on the COVID outbreak in Britain. It was his computer modeling of the coronavirus that helped shape the social distancing orders for all of the United Kingdom.

(I borrowed that information from Rosie DiManno’s article in the Toronto Star on May 7th. Rosie is one of the most trusted journalists in Canada perhaps in all of North America. She even knows the Cadbury secret. She could tell you how they get the caramel into those little chocolate squares but she never will. She’s bound by the hypochondriac’s… that’s not right… the hippo… the hippie… some oath anyway not to disclose the information.)

It appears our Neil was over at his married girlfriend’s house having a leg-over when he was supposed to be home distancing and had to resign from his lofty position as a government advisor. I won’t get into his problems other than to say I imagine his lady-friend isn’t exactly pleased to have her name blabbed all over the Kingdom and the colonies. Neil, by the way, is separated from his missus and if he wasn’t then he sure as hell is now.

Ladies, perhaps this might be the time for you to send your husband out for a walk (with a mask on of course) since we are going to talk about sex and you know how embarrassed he gets whenever the subject come up.

The subject for discussion today is –  can one have sex during a pandemic and if one does is a government-approved face mask for both partners sufficient or should each don a deep sea diving suit complete with weighted boots and oxygen hose? And should the coupling actually be completed will it be necessary to enter a decompression chamber to prevent bends and for how long?

For our information, the Sex Information and Education Council of Canada (SIECCAN) put out a fact sheet for safe sex practices in the time of coronavirus. I will not go into their suggestions, or what to do when Doug Ford and Justin burst into your love nest with non-banned firearms a-blazing. What I will do is discuss what their recommendation is for the safest sex of all – masturbation.

MASTURBATION! – wait a cotton-picking minute! Have these people forgotten all the dangers that stuff can and will do? The churches have been warning us ever since Onan spilled his seed on the ground way back when. (Actually I could use him right now. There’s a spot in our back yard where the damn grass never seems to grow) Masturbation causes blindness, hearing loss, hair on the palms of your hands, insanity, loss of memory, drooling and God knows what else, and all this is true. Let me tell you about my own experience.

I never paid much attention to girls when I was young. Oh, I knew they ran funny and couldn’t throw a ball overhand and wore bathing suits on Wednesday (ladies day) in the pool of the old YMCA on Peter Street while the boys had to go bare-bum naked. I never did know why. Back then I was one of the 0.09 percent of the world’s population who never touched themselves. But when I turned 20, maybe even 21, I found an old dog-eared copy of Playboy and my life went down the tubes right after that. Before that dreadful moment I was as pure as the driven snow. The churches used to hire me to walk through the Sunday schools to show the little ones what children should aspire to be. The halo that shone around my head was so bright the Orillia Water Light and Power would stand me on the end of the town dock during power outages so cruisers wouldn’t drive into the side of the Legion in the fog or the dark of night.

But all that changed when I discovered the filthy habit. I used to get a haircut every three or four weeks but after my fall from grace* (not the Grace who lives down the street but the grace the Bible is always running on about) I still did, but now I had to bring my palms in every other Friday. I started to wonder about bald-headed people and how Yul Brynner got that way. I could no longer hear anything quieter than an explosion and had to carry an ear trumpet. I had to buy reading glasses. I started to wear my ball cap backwards even in restaurants with white table cloths. My mother made me wear oven mitts to bed and sleep with the door open. My nose ran constantly and I began to drool a lot – so much so I had to wear a bib. Finally after my teeth started to fall out my dentist told me I would either have to break the filthy habit or get married.

So before you start heeding the advice of those perverts at SIECCAN think about what happened to me and why my life is a shambles.

*This morning I tried to call Grace down the street but she had her number delisted.

Rants & Raves

Support Independent Journalism