A record 7.1 percent of U.S. adults self-identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender or queer, and members of Generation Z are driving the growth, according to results from a Gallup survey published Thursday. Alfred Kinsey speculated that most folks are bisexual. Too bad he did not live long enough to comment on current developments.
If you read Leviticus, you come to understand that the tribe of Levi were a sexy bunch. The Levite rules about what one is 'not supposed to do' in a tent, tell us 'what they were doing' in the tent. Auntie Diddlers, evil Father Rapers (apology to Arlo).
Modern life has become a bit more complicated thanks to Science. I am experiencing gender confusion. Think of the flavors available:
Male, Female, Celibate, Polyamorous, Asexual, Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Homosexual, Transgender, Intersex, Queer. Did I leave something out?
I have played at all these things (at one time or another) whenever a situation seemed to require it. You do enough of that and eventually all orifices begin to look alike. Talk about confusion. Even the protuberances become mere supporting structures guiding one into the pink, undulating, lubricious, steaming center of the Pile. Anybody remember Plato's Retreat? The place gave new meaning to the mob phrase "going to the mattresses." But I digress.
I have come to the conclusion that I am a member of a hitherto unsung sexual minority: the Polymorphous Perverse. Subsumes all the other letters. Thank you, Sigmund Freud and Merriam Webster, for clearing it all up for me.
I blame some of my confusion and frenetic activity on the Menopause. When the estrogen went ByeBye, I was swept away by a tidal wave of testosterone. Progesterone? I grew a faint mustache. I have never looked back.
I have played at all these things (at one time or another) whenever a situation seemed to require it. You do enough of that and eventually all orifices begin to look alike. Talk about confusion. Even the protuberances become mere supporting structures guiding one into the pink, undulating, lubricious, steaming center of the Pile. Anybody remember Plato's Retreat? The place gave new meaning to the mob phrase "going to the mattresses." But I digress.
I have come to the conclusion that I am a member of a hitherto unsung sexual minority: the Polymorphous Perverse. Subsumes all the other letters. Thank you, Sigmund Freud and Merriam Webster, for clearing it all up for me.
"adj.
Characterized by or displaying sexual tendencies that have no specific direction, as in an infant or young child, but that may evolve into acts that are regarded as perversions in adults;
and:
Relating to or exhibiting infantile sexual tendencies in which the genitals are not yet identified as the sole or principal sexual organs nor coitus as the goal of erotic activity."
I blame some of my confusion and frenetic activity on the Menopause. When the estrogen went ByeBye, I was swept away by a tidal wave of testosterone. Progesterone? I grew a faint mustache. I have never looked back.
Human sexual variation is a fact of life; it is not an opinion, a sin, or a choice. I am so fricking old that I remember the Sixties. I was there. If it feels good, do IT, we said. Safely. I had to add that thought in the 80s.
And then somebody will find a name for It, ban It, write a book about It, make a video of It, develop a program for swearing off It or a pill to make the sensations more exquisite. Ah, modern life. I am not sure how I feel about it.
And then somebody will find a name for It, ban It, write a book about It, make a video of It, develop a program for swearing off It or a pill to make the sensations more exquisite. Ah, modern life. I am not sure how I feel about it.