12/31/15
That about wraps ‘er all up for 2015, ‘eh folks? I’d say it was a good year, but “good” relative to what? Sporting events happened; champions were crowned. A bunch of guns were fired, sometimes the bullets tore holes through folks’ flesh. Babies were expunged from vaginas & coffins were lowered into graves. I’d say that, overall, 2015 was a year that was chock-full of occurrences, both newsworthy & not so newsworthy. And so tonight, at midnight, a New Year will come upon us. What will it have in store? I’d rather not even venture to guess.
Last year’s New Year’s Eve, I made a resolution:
Did I keep it? I can’t say, honestly. I had resolved to eat “more” food & pussy. I failed to keep count of everything I ate, though. It’s hard, then, to know consumption increased from 2014 to 2015. I did not go hungry, though. Yes, the feast was ample in 2015. I tasted ocean fishes, cheap sushi, a Gliddenized steak, virgin pussy, an unfathomable quantity of cheeseburgers, pizza of all varieties, tacos, iced creams, cookies, buttholes both waxed & fuzzy, and a Thanksgiving dinner that couldn’t be beat. I did drugs, too! So I did my best in 2015, & I’ll look to keep it up in the coming year.
Back in 2014 we published an article titled “Tongue-Punching The Fart-Box; Or, Loosen Up And Lick Her Ass.” It exposed an underlying desire in men & women to engage in ass-to-mouth (A2M) sexual encounters & encouraged readers to give in to their base desires. More than a year later, we couldn’t be more pleased with how the A2M movement has taken off. Eating ass is now totally mainstream! We don’t want to toot our own horn too fucking loud, butTOOT TOOT YOU’RE FUCKING WELCOME, AMERICA!!! TOOT! TOOT! WE DID IT!! TOOT!
Okay, that felt good. I think it’s safe to say that Food & Pussy are the prophets of ass-eating. But every new prophet stands on the shoulders of at least one giant, and so I feel it’s best to close out our year here at Food & Pussy with some quotes from Milan Kundera’s excellent novel Slowness:
“Vincent looks at Julie and suddenly he is bewitched: the white light has endowed the girl with the beauty of a fairy, a beauty that surprises him, new beauty he did not see in her before, a fine, fragile, chaste, inaccessible beauty. And suddenly, he cannot even tell how it happened, he imagines the hole of her ass. Abruptly, unexpectedly, that image is there, and he will never be rid of it. Ah, the liberating ass hole! Thanks to it, the elegant fellow in the three-piece suit (at last, at last!) has completely vanished. What several glasses of whisky could not accomplish, an ass hole has achieved in a single second! Vincent winds Julie in his arms, kisses her, strokes her breasts, gazes on her delicate fairlylike beauty, and all this time, constantly, he is picturing her ass hole. He has an enormous desire to tell her: ‘I’m stroking your breasts, but all I’m thinking about is your ass hole.’ But he cannot do it, the words will not come out of his mouth. The more he thinks about her ass hole, the more Julie is white, diaphanous, and angelic, such that it is impossible for him to pronounce the words out loud.”
“I consider those four months and ten days between the two poems, four months Apollinaire spent in the trenches, deep in intense erotic reveries that brought him to that shift in perspective, to that revelation: the ass hole is the miraculous focal point for all the nuclear energy of nakedness. The vulva portal is important, of course (of course, who would deny that?), but too officially important, a registered site, classified, documented, explicated, examined, experimented on, watched, sung, celebrated. Vulva: noisy crossroads where all of chattering humankind meets, a tunnel the generations file through. Only the gullible believe in the intimacy of that site, the most public site of all. The only site that is truly intimate, whose taboo even pornographic films respect, is the hole of the ass, the supreme portal; supreme because it is the most mysterious, the most secret.”
Seriously, read Slowness. Happy New Year, folks!
Frank X Maloney
