I’m tire of bodies. They break. They decay. They squirt unpleasant substances. You have to feed them, and if you feed them too much they get all gross and nasty to look at. You’re supposed to exercise them, too, and if you don’t they get all tired and flaccid, and if you exercise them too much or incorrectly you pull muscles and wind up stiff and in pain for God knows how long. Bodies have to be lugged everywhere you go even though the speed of thought beats the speed of muscle every damn day of the week. Bodies get sick and have to be stuffed with all sorts of chemicals to make them right again, or chopped apart to have things taken out of them if they don’t work right. Bodies are a nuisance.
There are many complaints I have about bodies, but the first and foremost is the sex thing. Although sex is an activity almost universally enjoyable, “free fun for poor people” as St. Douglas Stanhope reminds us, there is more discrimination with regard to sexual activity than there are stolen elections in Florida. Very few people like to have sex with fat people, for instance, and even though many fat people are some of the nicest people in the world and are really good at doing sex, almost nobody ever gets to find out because of the current societal distaste for those who use more than their fair share of gravity. The fun parts on fat people work just as well as the ones on skinny people; they’re just a little harder to access. Sure, quick little sports cars are a gas to drive, but then they’re nothing when compared to the comfort and safety of a big ol’, fuel hogging SUV. They’re both vehicles. They both can get you to where you want to go. It’s merely a question of aesthetics. I’m sure you can see where I’m going here.
Same goes for old people. Despite the fact that old people have been having sex for, in some cases, upwards of half a century, they are disdained by young, smooth people because young, smooth people only like to have sex with other, young smooth people, even though the old, wrinkly people are generally MUCH better at making sex than young, smooth people. This makes no sense to me. A horny young woman is very popular and widely sought after by all men, and more than a few women, whether the seekers are young and smooth or old and wrinkly. A horny old woman is deemed disgusting, even though she knows WAY more about sex than the young smooth one and, unless she’s a Southern Baptist or a devout Catholic, more than likely enjoys it a whole lot more. There are no games with a horny old woman, nothing to figure out. You want to, she wants to, we’re good to go. Not so with the young smooth one, who has to be fed and cooed and fussed over for several hours, or even days, before she’ll even consider horizontally bopping. Usually it’s a waste of time, too, because, as I noted before, many young smooth women have very little idea how to do sex as well as an old wrinkly one. If the population of sexual partners were a law firm, the old wrinkly ones would have their names on the front door and everybody would want them first.
The general public also doesn’t like doing sex with “ugly” people. Have you ever noticed that after you’ve known a person for a while they cease being “beautiful” or “hideous” or “cute”, or whatever, and they simply look like themselves? If you have had a long association with a person, their physical distinctiveness becomes a mere afterthought and they magically transform into simply looking like, well, whatever it is that they look like. We usually don’t afford “ugly” people that luxury. We see them, we are repulsed, and we relegate them to the trashcan of sexual partners with “no chance” because they don’t conform to our idea of what “hot” is. The possibility of that “ugly” guy over there being able to lick his own eyebrows or that “pig” of a female sitting at the bar having the ability to suck a basketball through a funnel (OR lick her own eyebrows) is never even considered. They “look bad”, so you’re done with them. If that is your mindset and approach to recreational coupling partner selection, may I humbly suggest that you are an idiot? As in the fat population, “ugly” people work just as well as the “pretty” or “handsome” ones. And, since they have likely been treated like second-class citizens their entire lives for having the audacity to have been born with “undesirable” DNA characteristics, they are often MORE than eager to please you in any way they can, unlike the “pretty” or “handsome” smooth person who expects you to be eternally grateful because they deigned to allow you access to their perfectly-formed skinbag of bones and intestines. You want a really good time? Dump the cute one who treats you like a used shoe and hook up with the “ugly” one who really likes you. Trust me. You’ll be better off.
Another thing I really don’t like about bodies is that they all eventually age and fall apart, no matter how well you maintain and feed them. Whether you pee standing up or sitting down, there is no way to totally avoid the onset of scoliosis, bromhidrosis, brittle bones, liver spots, thinning hair, chicken skin, diarrhea, pyorrhea, seborrhea, corns, bunions, trifocals, Squatty Potties, Preparation-H, and Depends. Sure, there is the occasional lifestyle freak like Jack LaLanne, tugging huge boats across the Hudson with his ninety-year-old teeth every generation or two, but you have to admit not many of us are willing to put that much effort into staying that fit for that long. No, the overwhelming majority of us watch in helpless despair as our spines slowly shrink and our ears and noses grow to elephantine proportions. Gravity eventually kicks our ass too, and we wind up hoisting our tits off our tummies or sitting on our balls. It is at this point of human deterioration, I suppose, that the young smooth people can be at least partially forgiven for refusing coitus with what amounts to a wobbly herd of large, aging apricots that smells like stale cheese.
What I’d like really like to see implemented is a system whereby the truly nice people were also gorgeous on the outside. It takes a lot of effort to be genuinely kind on this shithole of a planet, and I feel that Mr. Gawd really screwed this one up. He should have doled out physical gifts only to those who put more effort into character development and integrity than mascara and gym memberships. Pounds and pounds of unwanted cellulite and flab should melt from the bones of kindhearted fat people so they would become blindingly, physically lovely overnight. “Ugly” folks filled with inner character and honest empathy for their fellow man should radiate that inner beauty outward to such an extent that Playboy and Playgirl magazine would besiege them with requests for photo shoots and cover shots. People like Mother Teresa should look like the blonde Sports Illustrated girl with the fat boobs instead of a moldy ham Danish. Folks would be falling all over each other trying to be as nice as they possibly could merely because they wanted to look good on the beach next summer, which I suppose is as good a reason as any to be a good person. The mean ones would get ugly really quick, and everyone would be able to see exactly what kind of disgusting pricks they really were on the inside, because it would show on the outside. All the shithead cheerleader and fraternity-guy types who’ve made a career out of stuffing nerds into trashcans and giving painful wedgies to their future employers would immediately look like the loathed love children of a back-alley tryst between Gollum and the bride of Chuckie. One could only attain external physical beauty by being a truly beautiful person on the inside. The moment you treated someone poorly, or cheated them out of money, or said something untrue or mean about them behind their back, or kicked a dog or drowned a kitty, you would immediately become a walking, bleeding, oozing facsimile of the painting Dorian Grey kept in his attic. Your inner ugly would goosh through your powdered, smooth skin and you would look exactly like the scumbag you really are in your soul.
It would change our election processes forever.