By Charles Dubno
May 18, 2005 | The Onion | Issue 41-20

I must say, the quality of discourse in this country has taken a sharp plunge of late, not only among the ruffians and ne'er-do-wells from whom one expects coarse speech, but among gentlemen of letters and esteem. I have, with my own ears, several times in the past week, heard the elder sons of prominent families introduce into mixed company subjects formerly reserved for private discussion among gentlemen. It pains me even to raise this point, but following a string of recent events, there is no question that the adage bears repeating: A gentleman ought never to disclose who sucked him off.

This needn't mean a gentleman must limit the discussion of his exploits to his journal. If a gentleman has met a young lady and taken her to his digs, it is his right and privilege to tell his friends and coworkers about the encounter. However, it is the mark of a true gentleman to omit his lady friend's name from the discussion of her pussy's tightness.

Why, I had assumed that this custom and others like it were universal and well understood, but as long as I am spelling out the Rules of the Gentleman, allow me to introduce several other equally important but oft-neglected guidelines.

Should a gentleman find himself alone with a lady, he should not simply undo his pants and come in her hole. A gentleman knows that it is good manners to coax his lady friend's heels as far above her head as they will go, to "split the reed," and perhaps to turn his lady over and give it to her "doggy style." A gentleman knows that a true lady enjoys a moderate amount of hair-pulling and ass-grabbing, taking these attentions as marks of affection and virility. However, a gentleman knows where to draw the line. He never lodges his lady friend's head between the couch cushions.

A gentleman occasionally will have more than one guest at his home. Should he see that jealousy is breeding between the two ladies whom he is hosting, a gentleman does not say, "Whoa, ladies, there's enough of me to go around!" The gentleman, valuing decorum and discretion above all else in his paramours, gently guides his guests' heads from his penis and informs them that if they do not act like ladies, he will have to ask them both to leave.

When up to his nuts in a lady's guts, a gentleman knows that it is quite impolite to smoke, talk politics, or take phone calls. Should his cell phone ring, the gentleman says, "Excuse me, I need to take this." He withdraws his penis from his lady friend and keeps his phone conversation brief. When he has completed his call, a gentleman gently reinserts his dick into his lady.

Of course, a gentleman who is not a smoker keeps an ashtray on his balcony for his lady friends who wish to smoke.

It should go without saying that, once he has arranged for a paid lady of the night to meet him at his home, a gentleman does not jerk off several times while awaiting her arrival, in order to "get his money's worth."

A gentleman knows that accidents happen. While it is an unfortunate and boorish behavior that should be kept to a minimum, a gentleman always apologizes to a lady after he mistakenly shoots his load inside of her.

A gentleman never comes in a lady's eyes.

While he knows that a lady gets pleasure out of pleasuring him, and he will occasionally increase the intensity of that pleasure by gentle force, a gentleman will never choke a woman on his cock.

If a gentleman wishes to attend to a lady's pleasure through oral manipulation, no matter what the state of affairs below, he always politely completes his task. A gentleman ought never to fan his hand in the air, grimace and make a show of removing a pubic hair from his teeth, or compare his lady friend's vulva to two strips of partially grilled fajita meat.

A gentleman knows that it is considered good manners to have an unopened toothbrush on hand for his lady friend, in the event that she should like to freshen up after eating his ass.

Breeding needn't amount to priggishness. On the contrary, a gentleman knows that good old-fashioned manners will likely increase his social engagements, once word gets out that he is not one to splooge and tell. But I beg the reader, for the sake of tradition and all that is decent, to remember that a true gentleman does not ever, under any circumstances, go ass to mouth.

I was lonlier than Kunta Kinte at a Merle Haggard concert that night I strolled on into Uncle Limpy's Hump Palace lookin' for love. It had been a while. In fact, three hundred and sixty-five had come and went since that midnight run haulin' hog to Shakey Town on I-10. I had picked up this hitchhiker that was sweatin' gallons through a pair of Daisy Duke cut-offs and one of those Fruit Of The Loom tank-tops. Well, that night I lost myself to ruby red lips, milky white skin and baby blue eyes. Name was Russell.

Chorus:
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'
Well I find it's quite a thrill
When she grinds me against her will
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'

Well, faster than you can say, "shallow grave", this pretty little thing come up to me and starts kneadin' my balls like hard-boiled eggs in a tube sock. Said her name was Bambi and I said, "Well that's a coincidence darlin', 'cause I was just thinkin' about skinnin' you like a deer." Well she smiled, had about as much teeth as a Jack-O-Lantern, and I went on to tell her how I would wear her face like a mask as I do my little kooky dance. And then she told me to shush. I guess she could sense my desperation. 'Course, it's hard to hide a hard-on when you're dressed like Minnie Pearl.

Repeat chorus

So, Bambi's goin' on about how she can make all my fantasies come true. So I says, "Even this one I have where Jesus Christ is jackhammering Mickey Mouse in the doodoo hole with a lawn dart as Garth Brooks gives birth to something resembling a cheddar cheese log with almonds on Santa Claus's tummy-tum?" Well ten beers, twenty minutes and thirty dollars later I'm parkin' the beef bus in tuna town if you know what I mean. Got to nail her back at her trailer. Heh. That rhymes. I have to admit it was even more of turn-on when I found out she was doin' me to buy baby formula.

Repeat chorus

Day or so had passed when I popped the clutch, gave the tranny a spin and slid on into The Stinky Pinky Gulp 'N' Guzzle Big Rig Snooze-A-Stop. There I was browsin' through the latest issue of "Throb", when I saw Bambi starin' at me from the back of a milk carton. Well my heart just dropped. So, I decided to do what any good Christian would.You can not imagine how difficult it is to hold a half gallon of moo juice and polish the one-eyed gopher when you're doin' seventy-five in an eighteen-wheeler. I never thought missing children could be so sexy. Did I say that out loud?

Repeat chorus

If you'd like to actually listen to this mess, then here's "A Lap Dance Is So Much Better When The Stripper Is Crying" as a 4.5MB (5:37) MP3 file.

Well my baby threw me out because I drink too much
She offered me her car so I could move my stuff
I'm gonna sell the bitch's car
I'm gonna sell the bitch's car
I'm gonna sell the bitch's car
Buy myself a cool guitar

Well she never should've called me a lazy slob
It ain't completely my fault that I can't keep a job
I'm gonna sell the bitch's car ...

If you'd like to hear the whole song: (3:44)

"Cool Guitars" as a 1.7MB MP3 file
"Cool Guitars" as a 0.6MB RealAudio file