Unfair

If you’re a cat, and you snuggle all over somebody’s legs and lap while they’re on the toilet, people think you’re adorable: “Oooh, look at the cute kitty!  He must need attention!”

If you try the same business as a human being, you don’t usually get quite so warm a reception.  It’s hard out here for a perv.

In Which Kevin Almost Gets Beaten up for Being a Gentleman

The other night, I closed at work, and one of the girls who was closing with me offered to drive me home, since she sort of goes that direction.  I accepted, and she drove me home.  A couple minutes later, I was standing outside watching my dog sniff various blades of grass, when I noticed her car coming down the street.  She stopped in front of my house to inform me that she was on the verge of running out of gas, and indeed, while we were talking, he car sputtered and died.

I filled her tank with enough lawn-mower gasoline to get her to the closest gas station, and I gave her all the money I had on me (four dollars) to buy herself enough gas to get home.  I didn’t invite her in.  I didn’t put any “moves” on her (like I have any of those anyway).

The next day, I was informed by her at work that her boyfriend had been furious the previous night, and had accused her of having sex with me, and had demanded that she drive me over to “this guy’s house” so that he could confront me, and probably kick my ass for the crime of accepting an offered ride and being a gentleman about her predicament.

The girl in question is cute, funny, and cool, and I admit that the first thing I thought when I saw her car pulling back up to the house was, “Am I about to get lucky?”  But that was just my uncensored and selfish inner monologue.  When put to these sorts of tests I am unfailingly a gentleman.  I’ve tucked drunk hotties in on the sofa and dutifully gone to bed: that’s just the way I am.  I find it a bit insulting that this guy, who doesn’t even know me, assumed I fucked his woman (and that it only took about ten minutes).

Nobody deserves to deal with these sort of accusations, the women especially.  Guys: if you trust your mates so little, why are you even with them?  I have a long habit of trusting my girlfriends, and, yeah, it’s bitten me in the ass a couple of times, but I’m afraid it’s the only way I know how to be.

The next time something like this happens, guess what?  I’m going to do the gentlemanly thing again, no matter how many douchebag boyfriends it may upset.

Ahem

Calls for censorship coming from the left are just as disgusting and worrisome to me as when they come from the right.  Nobody has the right to demand what language is or isn’t in a piece of art, even if that piece of “art” is a new Ron Howard comedy.

Express your outrage, vote with your wallet, but don’t think that you or anybody else has any place bullying filmmakers into removing content you may find offensive.

Sometimes I Disturb Even Myself (NSFW, I Suppose)

So I was watching Unforgiven today, which is one of the few modern movies that in my estimation deserved to actually win the accolades and Oscars it received, and the final scene rolled around, and with it Eastwood’s immortal line, “Deserve’s got nothin’ to do with it.”

I started wondering how I could play with this line.  Should I just take a screengrab and super-impose the line over it?  No, because that’s the sort of shit I’m always complaining about.  Then I started thinking about other situations in which the line would be appropriate, and I eventually decided to match it up with the image of a porn actress who’s face had just been bukkaked, maybe as part of a new “macho lines married to pornographic images” joke.

I wound up with this:

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I was immediately creeped out by what I’d perpetrated and decided to stop playing around with that idea, but since I’m such a sharing and caring sort of guy, I’m gonna let you all get creeped out, too.

You’re welcome.