Saturday, December 17, 2005

The Most Intriguing (and Sensual) Male Poets of 2006

(Edit: This post is a persona post intended to be humorous and ironic. Sorry if there was any confusion. Read it as if the blogger were an uptight, old-fashioned, McCarthyesque conservative, and then go buy the calendar, for goodness sake!)

Someone must be the voice of morality around here. And as everyone knows, I have always been the voice of wholesome purity -- the kind that made the 1950s the best decade in American history. There may have been minor "issues" with regards to race back then, but, you know, as the KKK always say, que sera, que sera.

With all the polymorphous perversity oozing around the blogosphere, I was not surprised to come across this filthy calendar -- -- in the guise of poetry and charity. It even features an Asian American poet-blogger, Mr. Lee Herrick, who promotes the calendar on his depraved blog:

It's not about CFIDS, I'm afraid. It's about hot poet sex, ready to deflower us all, just like Shakespeare deflowered the sonnet. If I was a mother of three teenage daughters, I would buy three of these calendars and force my daughters to sit in front of them until they got it out of their system. Same thing, if I was a father with three teenage sons. I'd expose the calendar to them till they learned what was decent and right.

Sure, there are some "cool" people who will buy this calendar. Some "chicks" and (don't even let me think about this one) "dudes" may have purchased it already. These "chicks" and "dudes" may say "hey, man" to each other in their "happening" alleys and present themselves as "the in-crowd" and go shooting pool on Sunday afternoons like a pack of "hippie" Buddhists from Indonesia.

But there are consequences as well. For example, and names have been concealed to protect the innocent here: Mrs. Jane Doe-Sugiyama, 32, was an average suburban housewife and mother of two 3 year old twins, who liked backgammon, knitting stockings, and baking oatmeal raisin cookies. One day, while making sure her computer was safe from pornography as any upstanding American would, she came across a link to this calendar on Mr. Herrick's weblog. Like any good mother, she wanted to protect her toddlers from online images that would not be conducive to their upbringing. She had to check out the site for the sake of her toddlers. But when she clicked on the link, when she saw the primordial pics of poet after poet, her right hand started shaking. Against all the morals that constituted her purity and membership card of the right wing of conservative fortitude, she clicked "yes" and ordered it!

For days afterwards, she worried that her husband would find out, and when it arrived while her husband was still at work, she found herself ripping the package apart with her teeth. Animal! She tore off her corset, fell to the carpet, and licked all the poems like a Victorian with too much caffeine in her system. Animal, animal! She glossed poem after poem, poet after poet, page after page, with her lustful tongue. Animal, animal, animal! She wept and screamed, "O what a foul, poet-lusting beast have I become!" Fortunately, she confessed her grievous straying to her husband, who quickly enrolled her in a 14-step program for housewives addicted to beefcake calendars.

At any rate, if you like sex, if you think that poems can be sex toys, if you think that poetry is about the flesh -- about Mr. Randall Mann's pecs, Mr. William Allegreeza in his underwear, and Mr. Herrick's bare feet -- I cannot stop you from indulging yourself and buying this calendar. I can only warn you of the heart of darkness that is The Most Intriguing (and Sensual) Male Poets 2006.


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