11/30/15

Here at Food & Pussy, we are fans of a feel good news story. We’re also fans of strippers. That’s why this news story, about a symbiotic relationship between a Northern Michigan skin joint--called Big Bon’s--& a bunch of horny hunters has the office buzzing. These strippers seem to take a significant amount of pride in their work, which they describe as providing a service for lonely men who “live in the woods.” And the money is right. There’s true beauty in that, given that each party involved in these transactions comes out happier. To call such a thing crass, or desperate, or demeaning, is to willfully ignore the pure, mundane beauty of a positive transaction. If everyone walks away smiling, well, what else really matters?

My hero of the day is the founder of Big Bon’s, Big Bonnie. Scope this excerpt from The Battle Creek Enquirer:

““Right away she made the bar wilder by adding mud wrestling, then Jell-o wrestling—both of which were immensely popular. But after getting a ticket for serving an underage drinker a decade ago, and after stubbornly refusing to pay the fine, she sold the bar’s liquor licence out of spite.

To survive, she converted the old tavern into a strip club.”

Bravo, Big Bon. R.I.P.

As for what’s new around the International Headquarters: we opened our pornography review wing today! I can’t offer too many details at the moment, but we’re very excited for this addition to our little website. I walked through the porn review office earlier today. Wow, that was pretty intense. Gaping assholes everywhere! This is a great place to work. Look for something later this week!

Speaking of porn: I can’t get enough of this Callie Calypso chick lately. I think I’m in love. Mmm. She likes her fartbox tongue-punched & I’d like the throw myself into contention for a shot at seeing just how deep up-in-there I can get my tongue. I like a challenge.

I recently re-watched that Paul Thomas Anderson joint Magnolia. It’s a great movie, yada yada. But it got me thinking about deathbed confessionals. Y’know, all these people in the flick start to spill the beans about the shortcomings of his/her past as he/she stares death in the face. Crying about regret and trying to make amends & all. So the cancer-riddled old dude, Jimmy, is spilling to his wife, Rose, that he cheated on her & shit and I’m thinking, “Wow, how selfish!” I mean, he’s already spent a lifetime with this person he doesn’t really love, allowing her to believe, all that time, that he did indeed love her. And she was happy & she was sad to see him dying, and now, in the face of all that, he feels the need to let her know that it was all a lie? A decent person, I feel, should swallow that confession & have the courage to allow his wife to go on believing her life was worthwhile, not wasted; not a complete fabrication. A last minute confession is nothing but a selfish & vain attempt to die in peace. Man up, old guy.

                              Frank X Maloney