important stuff

every once in a while, while strolling the avenues of this, uh, fair city, I’ll come across a used condom. this is not like finding a four-leaf clover, or $20. finding that kind of shit is awesome. this is fundamentally different.
the first thing you do when you find a spent rubber is leer at it. “what the fuck? is that … is that cum? holy shit.”
the second thing you’ll do is take account of your surroundings. this isn’t so you can announce that yes, it was you who found the ejaculate. it’s because you wanna take stock of your neighborhood, because apparently, this is the kind of spot where this sort of thing happens. maybe it was tossed from a car, maybe not. but there’s a possibility that someone did some fucking right there, right on the street. you’ll look up at the windows of the homes, look for vacant buildings and dark corners. wonder where it is exactly that it went down.
third thing you’ll do is make sure — if you have a dog with you — that the dog doesn’t try to pick it up. you gotta watch for that shit. dog’s will eat anything. you might want to make this the second thing you do, right after leering.
and fourth, the fourth thing you’ll do is have that fleeting second to yourself where you’ll think: well, it’s pretty gross that I just found a used condom. but hey, at least someone took a second before getting their dick out on the street and putting it in someone — hopefully willingly — and they wrapped it up. this is not how successful babies are usually born, from streetside coitus. I don’t have any numbers on that, but it’s just a feeling. and, what’s more, it’s certainly good to know that despite the irrepressible urge to bang on a Shaw corner, someone decided to keep their venereal diseases to themselves. that is a bonus. truly, a holiday miracle.

and here’s the Chicago Bulls singing “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” look for the sixth day!