“Blowjob on the Lawn” Decision-Making Criteria

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It starts with this:  “I’m getting a blowjob on the front lawn!”

Firstly, let me congratulate you on the blowjob.  I think we can all agree, that’s kind of like a mini-Christmas that just popped into your week.  But, though you’re excited, here is at least three reasons why that is probably a bad idea:

1.  This is not your house.  And the guy that lives here really loves that lawn.

2.  Other people still exist around you.  Probably the idea that you might get caught in the act is appealing to you, but that shows a complete lack of consideration for the guy that has to find you.  No one wants to catch you with your tumbly junk out and your naked ass hanging imprudently in the air.  If we did, we’d just install semi-transparent sliding glass door on all our bathrooms and rip them open the moment we saw you leave to pee.

3.  Regardless of where you are, this is probably illegal for some reason or another.  Call it public lewdness.  Call it endangering the welfare of a minor – I mean, you are in suburbia and at least half the windows in your view are owned by children.  And if you so much as bend a blade of grass on that guy’s lawn, that’s destruction of property; I told you.  He loves that lawn.

It is not infrequent when someone is at a crossroads between something they want and something they need.  Sometimes it may be easy to confuse the two; I mean, who doesn’t feel like they need a blowjob sometimes?

But “best interest” is usually a long-term endeavor.  It can be hard to choose what will service you best in life, when it seems like the world is falling to its knees in front of you.  (That one was a bit of a stretch, but I feel like it was worth it.  I mean, three penis references in one sentence?  That’s big.)

Sometimes fulfilling a present want can interfere with accomplishing a long-term goal.  For example, once you’re caught in public with your pants around your ankles, you can no longer pursue your lifelong dream to teach kindergarteners.

When I am faced with a tough decision regarding my wants and needs, I like to ask myself a series of questions, fondly referred to as the “Blowjob on the Lawn Decision-Making Criteria”:

1.  Is this something I can be “caught” doing?  If so, it is inherently a bad idea.  “Caught” results in negative consequences, invariably.  Some of them are punitive, like being arrested for public drunkenness, at least.  Some of them are social or personal, like losing the trust of a friend.  Either way, a price is being paid, and it will never serve you in the long run.

2.  If this is something I can be “caught” doing, but I still want to do it, can I change the time and/or place to make it more acceptable?  For example, could I, instead, just get my blowjob in the privacy of someone else’s laundry room?  There, “caught” is then transformed from “What the fuck are they doing out here?  Uncouth.  Inexplicably uncouth,” to “Sorry, dude, I didn’t know anyone was in there.  …Could you just run that whites cycle, while you’re there?”

3.  Have I been drinking?  Because if I have, I should really wait and mull this over once all my neurotransmitters begin working properly again, and my biological inhibition control turns back on.  Making decisions under the influence might get me a blowjob on the front lawn…or it might get me into a parachute made of Batman bed sheets that I am going to test off my roof.

It’s not a long list, but it’s proven to be a good one to live by.  I’ve never been to jail and am free to teach whatever age child I choose.  And as a bonus, my ass has the crisp smell of freshly laundered, springtime linens.

Celebratory Gunfire: Why You Can’t Drink in the Park

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Let’s say you want a drink.  (I know, it’s far-fetched already.  Just bear with me.)  If you are in Jolly Old England, you may pop open your favorite bottle of Beefeater gin, mix yourself a drink, and take a stroll around the neighborhood.  Just walk your Irish wolfhound through the park while sipping your stirred martini.

If you are in the United States, you must drink that martini, shaken or stirred, indoors.  Whether it be in a home or a bar or a restaurant, as long as you’re inside you may consume to your heart’s content.  (Or until you start inappropriately groping the waitstaff, and are then flagged by the bartender.)  But if you want to take that drink outside, you had better be prepared to conceal your bottle in a brown paper bag and dodge the cops, because that is illegal.

And here is why:

A British man was having troubles with his landlord.  The problems escalated until finally one day this happened:  it was tea time, and the tenant did not offer the landlord tea.  “I was rude to him,” the man told his wife.  “He won’t be back.”  Problem. Solved.

An American man was having troubles with his landlord.  The problems escalated until finally one day this happened:  the guy took a Louisville Slugger to the landlord’s car, then urinated in his gas tank.  Problem. Solved.  Solved.  Solved?

The culture of America is one of robustness.  We don’t act calmly or rationally when we’re sober and happy:

  • “What a great Thanksgiving dinner.  Let’s go outside and shoot rifles wildly into the trees.”
  • The Who is playing?  Great!  How many people can we trample to death on the way in?”
  • “Hey, The Phillies won the World Series!  … Let’s set this car on fire!”

Because of this American temperament, this robustness, time has taught us that we cannot trust ourselves to walk around wherever we want, pumping ourselves full of liquid courage.  When the cultural disposition is Cowboy Embodied – us walking around with our hips cocked, our guns slung, just waiting for someone to start a fight so we may assert our assertiveness – the last thing we can be trusted with is public drunkenness.

Of course this isn’t to say that every Brit solves his problems with passive aggression, nor that every American is willing to take a dump on your Honda.  I’ve never even held a real rifle, let alone engaged in celebratory gunfire after a delicious roasted turkey.

However, it is undeniable that as a culture Americans are highly expressive, and encouraged to be so in every facet of our lives.  Any self-help book, any guide to success, any episode of Dr. Phil – they all encourage us to be open with our wants and feelings.  To be a healthy, functional American, one has to be able to assert himself and communicate in an effective and assertive manner.

So in a culture where we are expected to be forceful in a state of sobriety, where can we go other than bat-shit-crazy when our inhibitions are released (via all those shots of Jagermeister)?  By denying ourselves the luxury of drinking in public, we are denying ourselves the obvious opportunity to unleash that beast into the urban wild.

Unlike a culture where “unleashing the beast” amounts to throwing copious amounts of breadcrumbs out the side window, so that birds may mess on the neighbor’s lawn.