There it was!
There it was, right there in the
Austin American Statesman,
page E11, Sunday, April 9th, 1989:
incontrovertible scientific proof!
At first I thought it wasn’t important,
just another filler,
relegated to deep burial on page E11 —
and then the revelation swept away
years of festering guilt and shame.
See, these Fancy Dan researchers at some Fancy Dan University
who poked around with the private parts of rats
(without the rats’ permission, I might add)
discovered that a male rat with its brain
cut off from its private parts
can still make Mary Rat smile,
even if the male is asleep or unconscious.
Well, at first I couldn’t help but wonder
how they tested all those rats —
just what did they make them do anyway?
And how did they get them to do it?
Especially if they were asleep
or unconscious.
And in a flash I saw trained rats, laboratory rats
(privately hired, perhaps)
in starched khaki uniforms
with Nazi armbands
and thick, black moustaches.
They had whips and machine guns
and they herded thousands of poor prisoner rats
into this huge rat motel
with hidden cameras,
secret microphones,
and the prisoner rats were forced into
vile and despicable forms of rat fornication —
enticed against their wills by
rat Mata Haris
in slinky black dresses
and bright red panties
and long, false whiskers, heavily mascaraed.
And the rats engaged in frenetic lovemaking,
in all kinds of weird, unnatural,
unratlike positions —
sometimes congregating in threes and fours and more!
sometimes in big piles of squirming, fucking rats,
All with dozens of wires and electrodes
connected to their private rat parts,
reporting their perversions to
squinty-eyed scientists with no sense of shame!
And suddenly what the scientists said hit home
and I was enveloped in the blinding white light of truth:
“Although the rats sense nothing in their brains,
“their sexual organs perform exactly as those of
“awake and intact rats that reach sexual climax.”
Their conclusion:
“Fundamental sexual response
“may be programmed into the lower spine.”
In other words,
Fucking has nothing to do with the brain.
It has nothing to do with conscious thought.
It has nothing to do with logic!
The body has another tiny brain,
buried in the pelvis,
and it only thinks about one thing,
It only wants to do one thing —
even if the body is asleep
or engaged in other things,
even when the mind is committed
to some other course or action —
or person.
And at last I understood!
At last all my guilt was absolved!
At last I have scientific proof, my dear!
That wasn’t me you caught
En flagrante with the Avon Lady.
It wasn’t me you saw with Mary Ann,
her dress hitched up over her hips
and her creamy white ass
propped up on the trash can behind her house.
It wasn’t me you saw with his hands
stuffed down the pants of that
waitress at Kirby Lane.
And that’s not me you’ve seen a thousand times
while we walked hand in hand,
turning to watch some blonde bombshell
sashay down Sixth Street —
It’s just some primal pelvic rat brain
doing its thing!
It wasn’t me at all.
———————————————————————————————
Okay, for those of you who are all pissed off at me for the above,
THIS IS NOT ME! I am a writer, damn it, and this is a character I created, who responded this way because there are those who WOULD. But, in his words, let me say, “It wasn’t me at all!” Thank you!
Now that is interesting. That tiny brain was in control all that time. So we have the same tiny brain and respond just the same way as a man would. Was that article in the Times? Nice read
See the 1st verse: Austin-American Statesman, April 9th, 1989. A real study. And boy, did I get a lot of flack from the “gentle sex.” Just reporting what I read — in my own words, of course. Isn’t that what good reporters do?
Yes, that is what good reporters do.;))
I was intrigued the whole time reading this.
Informative and entertaining!
With a side of “it wasn’t my fault”. Hahaha
Enjoyed the read.
I’m glad you enjoyed it. It is a fun one to perform, though it’s been a good while since I have done that.