I know that, like most of you out there, once I've drained a twelve pack and performed a mighty suck off the John Ashcroft Soaring Eagle Bong, I make mistakes. I admit this freely, under court order. I also know that we who are the true Americans are not just susceptible to outside dark forces (I'm talking to you, Barack "Hussein Arab Muslim Islamoblackofascist" Obama Mama) but also to the pernicious finnagleings of the enemy within, the double agents that can appear anywhere, at any time, and rob us of our Spermatozaon Essence. Yes, I'm talking about Orchid Wasps.
Orchids that mimic female wasps may not only waste the time of the male wasps they lure into spreading their pollen -- they also seduce them into wasting valuable sperm, Australian researchers reported on Wednesday.The next time you give some semen-stained flowers to your loved one (Praise Jesus that Mother's Day has passed) think about what it means when WASPs (think it's just a coincidence that White Anglo Saxon Protestants and their flying counterparts have both fallen prey to random seductions? Well, do ya?) have their innermost gonadial genetic envoys devoured by meretricious flowers. I know I will.
"Insects pollinating Australian tongue orchids (Cryptostylis species) frequently ejaculate and waste copious sperm," they wrote in a report in The American Naturalist.Yeah, I know, those are Australian tongues they're talking about, but they're white like us, and descended from criminals, so the links are there. We are one with our down under tongue suckers.
Flowers are nature's sluts, and always have been, so you shouldn't even go there, unless you are some butt-sniffing bee out for free pollen and smellariffic nonsense. But what matters about this story--really, really matters--is that we patriotic Americans have been guilty of depositing our essence in the wrong membranes for some time now and don't even know it. Whether it's shooting off a load in an acting senator's field office or getting jiggy with our inner scuba diver it's no secret that we're "dropping the kids off five blocks from school." I don't know about you, but if a school bus shows up and pretends it's my wife, I start humping the back bumpers like Jeff Gannon at the Lucky 8 Inches Cut Corral. Twice.
So what are we to do? Our innate desire to populate the earth with people who eat as many Cheetos as we do can override our abilities to discriminate as to worthy receptacles for that impending army of surging spermatoids, and thus impede our ability to get those "slippery kids" into the Home School where they belong. Those orchids that trick the WASPs are just like our public restrooms, private chat rooms, live chat rooms, Uncle Linda's back patio, Aunt Larry's Double Ply Wet Suits Boutique, thumbnail sketches of grown men practicing nude chiropractic pain relief--my bookmarks just go on and on. The WASP Sucking Orchids of Life cheat us of the tarmacs our little jets should be landing on, and I know just how to make it stop. As Nancy used to say while adjusting Ronnie's catheter: Just Say No to Orchids. That's right: just say no, right after you jettison a tactical force whose sole purpose is to throw the enemy off the track. How can you say no while you're saying yes? Are you new in town or what?
Look, White America needs more babies, okay? With half the GOP going down on the other half (with mixed results, I might add) what can we do to keep the bloodlines going, the juices flowing, the gonads goading? What is it going to take to save America? I call it Tactical Orchid Fucking, and you should too.
Some of you may be scratching some pouch-like part of your body this very minute while you wrap your brain around how you can use Tactical Orchid Fucking to stave off the WASP Sucking Orchids of this world. Well, I'll tell you: if you pass a men's room and feel the need to widen your stance, go ahead, but here's the key: only let a few of your little soldiers out of the barracks at one time. Here is where we have to turn to our women (desperate times call for desperate actions). Women have known for right around 6,000 years (as soon as Eve got out of the garden she started experimenting) two things: number one is if you make a joke about menstruation women will kill you in your sleep, and number two is Kegles, baby, Kegles! That's right: by controlling your pelvic muscles, the way women and closeted Republicans do, you can keep the ranks in line, only sending out enough infantry to greet the enemy with a lightly moist kiss and make those damn orchids think they done took you dry, while you save the regular army for sweet honeybone's egg farm. Why should women be the only ones who can sever your head with their rock-hard, hairy thighs? I mean, really.
Remember: when you get a quickie on the way home, just give enough to your orchid friend to make it seem like you care. The rest that you hang on to will be re-upped on the home front. If you can't control the numbers, the numbers will invariably control you.
Yours in Manly Kegles,
Image of a poor, misunderstood WASP came from here.