"Oh, springtime day!"
And a sunny, sunny noontime one at that, all
lilac and birdsong and sass, every bit the resplendent stage for the playing out of a man's fancies.
Let's see. Perhaps begin things with a brisk constitutional in the park, there to enter into a witty
confab with a newfound friend or two? Yes, that's the ticket. The park it is, then!I threw back the bed-clothes, slipped into a soupçon
of springtime togs, and was striding lightly toward the rear door of the house when who should
interrupt my idyl but Dad and one of his understated harrumphs!I stepped into his office, closed the door behind me, and
waited there with an air of insouciance I would guess. Eventually he logged off and looked over at
me in the reflection of the monitor. "The world is
a horrible place, Lincoln. Awful, twisted and foul." He took a quick conference call, then
continued. "Depravity, sickness, death. Everywhere, in our homes, our streets, our public
accommodations, skulking denizens of the moral sub-plane besmirch all things good and civilized and
true." He pulled a whisper of lint from his khaki housecoat and flicked it away ruefully. "Young
people are dying like flies. Tsetse flies. Beneath the callused hand of Time." Just like that, the day seemed not quite so springtimey.
"Oh, no!" "Well, I feel it's time I did something
more than simply make fun of it all. A man in my position has the capacity to effect real change.
I've made a decision. From now on when you leave the house you will take a condom." There it was on the corner of the desk. Sweet Dad. I
stepped into the bathroom and put it on and safely tucked it out of harm's way and reentered the
room. "Good thinking, Dad. After all ... I don't want to become, as the saying goes, 'Just another
statistic.' Heh-heh." He massaged his temples.
"That's right, Lincoln. And why is that?" "I don't
know." "Because, Lincoln, statistics confuse and
frighten you. In fact, if you'll slip your shorts back on I'll show you." Right then and there and made me editor of the Urban
Spelunker Sex Survey Tabulation Article. That's really how it happened!
They say that approximately ninety percent of creative
persons can't do math, and that's always made me want to learn what that means. Ninety percent ...
is that a lot? Who are "they"? Math? I'll give you
an example. My first official act as newly-appointed Editor was to curl up in the corner of the
divan and begin tabulating the survey responses ... and I found myself certifiably nonplussed
right from the get-go: according to my calculations, only 20% of the respondents responded to the
survey! I added and added until my fingers were bloody stumps before finally figuring it out:
turns out the rest of the respondents were responding to other stimuli, in ways that were impossible
to tabulate. It got worse. 33% of you stumbled
over question #40 in the survey ("Are you filling out the survey?"), checking the No box. I had no
choice but to throw these responses right in the trash. 18% of you checked the boxes indecipherably.
Another 6%, I could not tell if they were indecipherable. 2% did not belong to a percentile. Another
10% of you do not exist at all. 17.5% of you sent in blank responses merely in order to receive the
free prize (seafood dinner for two, which I ate), but since there was no free prize, I could
not make heads or tails of them. There were some 14,000 of you who, when confronted with question
#20 ("What sexual behaviors do you not want to engage in?"), responded: "I do not want to engage in
filling out this sex survey and sending it in." And then you lived out that fantasy by throwing your
surveys right in the trash. There were another 750 responses I did not get around to opening and I
threw them right in the trash. Happily, some 40% of you managed to fill out the survey as directed
(how do we know you did so happily? The "happy faces" all over the surveys).Now go ahead, do the math: 14,913%! That is
impossible. You people cannot do math! Then, when I actually had to start reading the surveys, I noticed that I could not make
heads or tails of them. For example: 10% of you said you couldn't remember if you had ever had sex
while on acid; 20% said you could in fact remember doing so and thus were mistaken. 18% of you
answered questions we did not ask, and several of the survey responses simply asked questions
which unfortunately were of no use to us because I frankly could not make heads or tails of my
answers to them. 64% of you said you would like to try felching but do not know what felching is and
do not want to be told because then you would have to change your answer. This, even though the
survey specifically said not to refer to felching. Then it dawned on me. These responses. They're ... unusual. Vivid, deeply personal, very
unpleasant to read but, when it comes right down to it, not really about "sex" at all. In all these
teen accounts of genital piercing, manful erections, of bondage and humiliation, what I sensed was
this: a lot of pain, a lot of need, a lot of cries for help, and of course a lot of lying. And as I
read the responses, intermittently chuckling or weeping softly or even lying a bit myself (example:
I did not in fact weep softly), I kept coming back to the central question: what is it about all of
this that a normal person could possibly find interesting? For that is the question, isn't it? After all, what is "normal"? Half the time I think I
have a pretty good grasp of what it means. But the rest of the time I find myself wondering ...
"half"? Is that a lot? Is that ... most of the time? Maddening. Sadly, that is why sex surveys are necessary. All of us need to know, deep down,
if we are normal in our sexual natures. In the dead of night, when we give ourselves that coquettish
touch: would a normal person have done that? When we lay out the scented oils, tissues and
liniments, in expectation of an evening of forbidden pleasures: that's how normal people do it,
right? In order to know for sure, we must compare ourselves favorably with others. And you will
notice I have become so embarrassed I have been forced to refer to myself as "we." Anyway, we have read the responses. We have compared them
to the more interesting responses with which we have replaced them which my Dad wrote. And now,
having read the following analysis and this brief introductory piece which Dad was also kind enough
to write for me, I think it's safe to say that, yes indeed, it truly is, as a wise man once said, a
horrible world, awful, twisted, foul.
1. THE SCOURGE OF THE 90'S
Ominously, and despite the efforts of modern medicine, sexual pleasure continues to carry with it the risk of reproduction. 10% of our respondents used Gayness as a means of avoiding unwanted pregnancy; 5% used Being A Nun ("nunning"); 50% were men; and a smattering used a combination of all three.
20% of women take the Pill, although 40% of
Pill-takers complained about side-effects (gassiness, irritability). Interestingly, the other 60%
praised these side-effects, noting that they provide a highly prophylactic sexual unsavoriness.
2. THE OFT-FATAL INCONVENIENCES OF THE 90'S
What do teens and octogenarians have in common? Both groups love nothing more than to gather together in comfortable settings and talk about their diseases. What's more, most of these diseases -- chafes, discharges, colonic bruises, flesh blight -- are common to both.
Herpes, happily, is a disease teens can call their own.
We inquired as to how often teens give each other herpes and under what circumstances. Nearly all of
you have given it to an acquaintance, with 32% doing so because "Since it worked so well for me, why
not do something nice for my bitch?"; and another 10% because "It was her birthday and that's all I
could afford"; another 25% gave it to a friend only to have it disdainfully returned. 40% of
you received it from a sexual partner; 20% needed no assistance; the rest are still hard at it. 80% of us use
condoms, and that is good. The problem here is that 72% do not use them in the way God intended: 8%
use them as curiosities; 15% as ballast; 10% as fuel; 15% as Playthings & Distractions. Of those who use
condoms properly, all are sensible enough to realize that soaking them overnight in baby oil
perforates them with microscopic punctures. 20% do so to "let them breathe"; another 33%, so that
they "filter out impurities, but let the good stuff through." It is in fact not at all uncommon for a young
man to put on a condom and then forget all about it for many hours or even half the day until he is
reminded of it by the unmistakable sensation of urine burn.3. TOTTING UP THE TYKES
Some of the survey responses made us feel bad about ourselves as human beings. Ashamed. When 26 third-graders from the Boy's Sexuality Awareness class at Coe Elementary sent in individual survey responses as part of a group project, we had to ask ourselves what in god's name we had done. Coe instructor Fran Latterly guided them through the intricacies of questions involving such subjects as venereal diseases ("None."), how many babes they had banged ("None."), how far their ejaculate travels upon discharge ("Cannot discharge ejaculate."), and so on. Really now, Miss Latterly. You with your worldly ways deemed it appropriate to teach 3rd-graders about felching, fisting and auto-erotic strangulation, yet somehow you neglected to explain to your impressionable young charges that, when discussing matters of such a delicate and deeply personal nature, a young person must always, always remember to exaggerate. In particular, their answer to the penis-length question ("Two inches.") caused the survey penis-length average to plummet like a stone. Children, your responses would have caused Seattle great civic dishonor had we not swiftly ground them into papier-mâché material.
Incidentally, many a respondent was baffled as to how to get
an accurate reading for the penis-weight question. Here's how the kids at Coe did it: weigh self;
step off scale, attain erection; weigh self again. The difference in weights is your penis
weight!4. GAG
A whopping 10% say they enjoy S&M.
5. GAG ME
Our survey showed that nearly 40% of women have made love at some point during their normal 28-day menstrual cycle. Similarly, about 30% of men have had sex during their normal urinary cycle.
How often do you masturbate? 40% of you say you are
essentially always in a state of masturbation. 19% practice a once-hourly masturbatory
anger-management regimen as a condition of parole. 9% wish you had the time for masturbation, but
are too busy copulating with friends, acquaintances. And 22% say that you used to masturbate, but
simply can no longer afford all the requisite oils, tissues, liniments, etc. 6. MOST FREQUENTLY CITED DOUBTS AND INSECURE THOUGHTS THAT COME TO MIND DURING SEX WITH A STRANGER
Am ... am I being pleased?
Will I ... will I continue to be pleased? Am I continuing
to find him/her sexually attractive? Mmm ... feels good. Say ... what is the gender of this person? Ou-ouch! Dammit!
I bet this would feel good if I was gay Man! I'll never mix Jagermeister and Lowenbrau again! Say. Is
... is that someone fucking me?7. POTPOURRI
Hidden at the center of every man's psyche is an abyss: dark, mysterious, at once forbidding and yet fulsome with allure. In our survey we asked Seattle teens a question which, devilishly, really cannot be answered: how, when confronted with this murky, quixotic gap, would you go about squeezing your penis into it? 14% would pretend you were in a band; 18% are in a band and don't understand the question; 12% would say your girlfriend had recently died and you just needed to be held; but an overwhelming 56% thought the idea unappetizing due to disease concerns.
Then we asked you
how far your ejaculate travels upon discharge. Well, the expelled seminal fluid of a number of our
respondents actually traveled a Herculean distance "beyond the capacity of a normal person to
measure." Or so claimed the various youngsters who had the idea of launching their treat from the
top of the Columbia Tower Now then, gentlemen: what's your sperm taste like? That's what we asked in the survey,
and it seemed at the time that there could be no more insignificant a life-style question in these
troubled times. Well, thousands of you saw different, and came through with detailed reports of your
personal tastings -- even a few young ladies who had sperm and knew its taste -- and we thank you
for these responses although they were not informative. One set of responses was interesting,
though: several fans of the braille version of our survey from the Sherwood Home for the Blind
performed the sperm tasting, giving of course the same answer as everyone else ("Salty."), but also
complaining of oral cankers and a burning sensation on the palate. And now, I would like the
residents of the Sherwood Home to have someone read the following notice to them: HEY! HELLO BLIND
PEOPLE! HEY! STOP TASTING! THAT IS NOT SPERM! IT IS URINE! NOT SPERM BUT URINE! BLIND PEOPLE DO NOT
TASTE! Isn't there any supervision at the Sherwood Home?8. I AM NOT YOUR SHRINK
Over 450 of you sent in your type-written sexual fantasies, and we thank you. But it was immediately evident that these were very private thoughts which properly should be kept to oneself, and we destroyed them.
9. KINKY EXPERIENCES YOU THOUGHT WE'D FIND INTERESTING
Farted during sex and also for several days thereafter
Cut a monster
pussy fart, discharged baby I was cheating on my boyfriend with this guy, and I accidentally farted
my boyfriend's name Boyfriend did "sexy dance" for me, but broken ribs made it too painful to laugh, so I
released rapid-fire staccato farts instead Attended private screening of "Titanic." At end, when she drops
the jewel in the sea, I emitted a long, plaintive, bittersweet fart I accidentally
farted a strong musk fragrance which led to a long romantic relationship with my cell-mates Rimmed
acquaintance, launched rowdy mouth-fart Unleashed cruel, weeping fart, but from which orifice I know not. All
were occupied Passed fart up lover's penis that burnt hole in his urethra Nothin' but
miserable farts during coprophilia session.
George Clark ServicesEven though this is not a survey, we know from experience that many
of you will think it is and will try to fill it out. Go ahead. Then send it amusingly
to:
6115 Queen Anne Avenue North
Suite
512
Seattle, WA 98109
Click here to reconsider the Spelunker Sex Survey
