Saturday, February 12, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
Musings on the Cuban Missile Crisis
The recently-released trailer for the new X-Men film has revealed that the story takes place during the Cuban Missile Crisis. This prompted me to google the Cuban Missile Crisis (I learn history only through movie trailers; I didn't even know 9/11 happened until United 93 came out). I though it was a pretty impressive piece of history, but Crabby has some issues with it in regards to it's accuracy. I'll let him take it from here:
Dear Soft Flesh-Things,
I have seen your trailer for your latest sexy explosion adventure, and it troubles me that you pass these "X-Men" off as the secret reason for the Cuban Missile Crisis. Clearly, you know not of the Kennedy sex-bot.
Your President Kennedy was not a man, but an android suit piloted by a super-intelligent cat known as the Right Honorable Mr. Jingledinglepoo. Cultures around the world tell tales of the unrivaled sexual prowess of this cat. The Kennedy suit, being designed by him, naturally included the most perfect penis in the history of the world.
Ever aspect of the robocock had been slaved over for years; the thickness, the length, the width... Every individual cell of the robocock was rigorously tested until the most perfect combination possible was achieved. Even the number of individual atoms was taken into account.
Those who joke about JFK's erotic conquests know nothing; the suit had bed well over 6000 women before being introduced to Marylin Monroe, and hundreds more after. Nikita Khrushchev, as is well-reported in Secret Histories the world over, was a sexual connoisseur of the highest caliber. He fucked and he was fucked, but he took no pleasure and held no bias; he stood instead as a detached observer, judging each encounter on it's own merits.
He was a harsh critic. A single mistimed pelvic thrust would be noted and cataloged forever in the secret Soviet Sexbook, forever besmirching the thruster's reputation by symbolically destroying their mojo.
Khrushchev had heard tales of the sex-bot, and the entire Cuban Missile Crisis was a sham concocted to test the erotic whiles of the Sexbot. There are no records of what was said during their secret meeting, save for two lines told to me by Mr. Jingledinglepoo at a bar in Cairo:
KHRUSHCHEV: I must break you.
KENNEDY: The only thing that'll be broken by the end of this will be your heart.
What followed is literally indescribable, as it transcended the mortal world into what is known by the Inuit as "Kalukadackdooka" or "The Really, Really, Really Good Fuck." Only a single point was deducted from Kennedy's performance, due to his unfortunate tendency to yell "Oh my er, ah, GOD!" after every third ass slap. Humans, this man's sexual promiscuity saved your lives. Look grateful.
In Eternal Pinchy Contempt,
THE CRAB
Dear Soft Flesh-Things,
I have seen your trailer for your latest sexy explosion adventure, and it troubles me that you pass these "X-Men" off as the secret reason for the Cuban Missile Crisis. Clearly, you know not of the Kennedy sex-bot.
Your President Kennedy was not a man, but an android suit piloted by a super-intelligent cat known as the Right Honorable Mr. Jingledinglepoo. Cultures around the world tell tales of the unrivaled sexual prowess of this cat. The Kennedy suit, being designed by him, naturally included the most perfect penis in the history of the world.
Ever aspect of the robocock had been slaved over for years; the thickness, the length, the width... Every individual cell of the robocock was rigorously tested until the most perfect combination possible was achieved. Even the number of individual atoms was taken into account.
Those who joke about JFK's erotic conquests know nothing; the suit had bed well over 6000 women before being introduced to Marylin Monroe, and hundreds more after. Nikita Khrushchev, as is well-reported in Secret Histories the world over, was a sexual connoisseur of the highest caliber. He fucked and he was fucked, but he took no pleasure and held no bias; he stood instead as a detached observer, judging each encounter on it's own merits.
He was a harsh critic. A single mistimed pelvic thrust would be noted and cataloged forever in the secret Soviet Sexbook, forever besmirching the thruster's reputation by symbolically destroying their mojo.
Khrushchev had heard tales of the sex-bot, and the entire Cuban Missile Crisis was a sham concocted to test the erotic whiles of the Sexbot. There are no records of what was said during their secret meeting, save for two lines told to me by Mr. Jingledinglepoo at a bar in Cairo:
KHRUSHCHEV: I must break you.
KENNEDY: The only thing that'll be broken by the end of this will be your heart.
What followed is literally indescribable, as it transcended the mortal world into what is known by the Inuit as "Kalukadackdooka" or "The Really, Really, Really Good Fuck." Only a single point was deducted from Kennedy's performance, due to his unfortunate tendency to yell "Oh my er, ah, GOD!" after every third ass slap. Humans, this man's sexual promiscuity saved your lives. Look grateful.
In Eternal Pinchy Contempt,
THE CRAB
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