Beating a Dead Horse (Literally this Time) - February 22, 2006

I pride myself on providing a thorough treatment of any issue I confront. It has come to my attention, however, that I've overlooked at least three potential trouble spots in the genre of sex with the dead: animals, vegetables, and the comatose. I would be remiss, as such, if I did not work through them each, individually.

First, and probably most surprising from my perspective, is concern over the propriety of sex with dead animals. I say surprising because I would have thought anyone with even a tenuous grasp on the concept of property rights might understand that animals are possession with which we may do as we please.

For the sake of full disclosure, I think it germane at this point to state that I am not fundamentally against bestiality laws. They have their place along the spectrum of pro-business legislation. What commercial shepherd wants to dedicate even a sliver of his resources to scaring off gaggles of sheepfuckers from his land simply because they feel they are exercising a constitutionally-protected right? Just as stress makes hair on humans fall out or turn gray, you can be sure that unexpected, unsolicited sexual intercourse will have an effect on high-quality wool production.

On the other hand, once those sheep are dead and their wool shorn from their bodies, who is to say that shepherds necessarily have a better sense of the sheep's greatest utility? I would argue that the profusely sweating, internet-savvy bachelor with extra floor space has a much better idea. And even if he doesn't, if he pays the shepherd fair market price why should he not be able, in the privacy of his mother's basement, to do with its lifeless corpse what he sees fit.

Pets are obviously a little different. They are soft and cuddly, we give them as gifts to small children and girlfriends, and we insist on giving them people's names in an effort to make them part of the family. While this is a laudable endeavor on the part of parents and sentimental boyfriends, it has only served to impute to animals a sense of dignity and self-worth that runs counter to their destiny as post-mortem sex objects.

I have loved every dog I have ever had. My current dog, Buttercup, stays with my mom in California and is a bundle of lovability. When I'm home, we wrestle and go for walks. She sleeps on my bed most nights and makes a point of waking me up in the morning. But I've gotta tell you, once she dies, what's left? Memories? Fuck that. With the understanding that, during her life, I loved her unconditionally, there is no reason that in her death, I shouldn't be able to saw off her legs and make her my fuck puppet like King Friday from Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood. It doesn't change how I felt about her. Sure, she may no longer be able to come when I say so, but she can at least help me come when I say so.

Vegetables coming soon...

Posted by nils at 3:08 PM

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Comments

Hachie mama!! I like the idea of a freshly shorn sheep in bed....that just screams "Hot".

Posted by: Jay Sherman at February 22, 2006 04:24 PM

I'm scarred. All of my fond Mr. Rogers memories have just been tainted. I used to love the puppet part - not any more. I have to go suck my thumb in a corner, and rock back and forth while whispering "Safe place, safe place".

Posted by: KC at February 22, 2006 07:55 PM

wow, and i thought I was fucked in the head

Posted by: leron at February 22, 2006 09:50 PM

I didn't think anyone could defend fucking dead humans or animals. You have impressed me my friend.

Posted by: Funk Master Steven at February 23, 2006 04:39 PM

Nils is either losing his mind, or creating a brilliant arc to pull together a whole bunch of ridiculous ideas in the name of comedy.

I am somewhat affraid of where this might end up, and yet I keep reading. What is wrong with me?

- SkiGuy

Posted by: SkiGuy at February 23, 2006 04:48 PM

Guys have it so much easier. Y'all can go for it right when it's still hot and wet. Girls have to wait til the rigor mortis sets in before we can start riding the pony-- and even then we only get 3 hours of fun.

Posted by: Lorelei at February 23, 2006 04:58 PM

Lorelei, that's what taxidermy is for.

Posted by: DrunkRex at February 23, 2006 05:36 PM

I guess I can't complain too much, I have a feeling we'll make out better with vegetables..unless they're the Schiavo type.

Posted by: Lorelei at February 23, 2006 06:04 PM

I think those are the kind he is refering to.

Posted by: Al at February 23, 2006 06:10 PM

"For the sake of full disclosure, I think it germane at this point to state that I am not fundamentally against bestiality laws."

DrunkRex: In some ways one must look to other parts of the world for enlightenment. Sudan seems to be ahead of the United States, atleast when it comes to progressive ideas regarding human-animal relationships. If you can legally claim your goat as your wife, there shouldn't be any argument about sexual taboos. She isn't your property, but your wife (atleast according to a western idea of marriage). Although, it may complicate matters when one would try to comprehend the will of the goat. Does "Baaa Baaaa BAAAAAAA" translate into "You can have intercourse with my dead carcass"? The BBC reports on one such incident.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/4748292.stm

Posted by: Sanku at February 24, 2006 05:47 PM

I'm glad that you have found an outlet to help you work through you recent breakup, but goddamn.

Posted by: Brian at February 25, 2006 12:28 PM

I just wanted to add a comment here that may be premature, as you claim to be addressing vegetables at a later date, but here you go anyway.
I worked at a movie theatre in high school, and this job basically consisted of sitting around and bullshiting with the other staff members while fat americans sat in a room watching dumb americans pretend to be something they aren't. I digress.

One movie that played in the theatre was "James and the Giant Peach". An animated movie about some kid and a big piece of fruit (I don't remember what it was about.) So during one of the countless hours that we spent standing around, my degenerate friend Dan said musingly, "I wonder what it would be like to drill a hole in a peach and fuck it." His comment was met by complete and utter silence, which was understandable. We all ostracized him like any good group of teenage males would do, and he apologized profusely for his comment.
Fast forward to a few days later back at the movie theatre. We are all standing around when in the door walks Dan holding a paper bag in his hand. He silently walks over to the counter and puts the bag on top. He dumps out a peach with a hole in the side and a mysterious substance oozing out of the hole. Dan looked at all of us and said, "I microwaved it and it was awesome. You all can make fun of me all you want, but you know you are each going to fuck a piece of fruit now."

He was right.

Posted by: Anonymous at February 25, 2006 06:48 PM

I do believe he was referring to the human sort of vegetable, anonymous, yet...good to know anyway. I'd assume that it is completely within one's rights to use produce that one has in fact purchased oneself to do with what one wishes as a tool for sexual gratification. And anyway, the produce is already dead, right? I've heard tell of people who love pumpkins, too. I mean really, really love pumpkins.

After death, the subject of consent is a moot point, Sanku, be ye dearly departed pet or dearly departed girl next door. I doubt very many people explicitly state the wish to not have their corpse violated in their last will and testament. Maybe they should, if they're going to get testy about it.

People use inanimate objects all the time, and in the end, what more is a dead body than just another inanimate object? There's no mind or soul to neither give nor refuse consent. A body is not in fact a person, right? Since it's what's on the inside that counts. And what's on the inside isn't there anymore. Might as well be a doll. Would you feel guilt about banging a doll? Didn't think so.

Posted by: Bethany at February 27, 2006 12:11 AM

i just found this blog....is he serious or is this a joke?

Posted by: lucas at February 27, 2006 02:00 PM

He is serious.

http://www.drunkasaurusrex.com/images/butterfucker1.jpg

Posted by: Anonymous at February 28, 2006 08:51 AM

D-Rex. You now officially have, not issues, but entire subscriptions. While I do not exactly disagree with you Prima-Facie, I DO think that you may now have entirely too much time on your hands. I think we should go out drinking. Since the break-up, you are obviously doing way too little of that. Get a grip Cuz...........Get a fuckin' grip.

Posted by: LarryGUNZ at February 28, 2006 06:39 PM

Posted by: loco at March 6, 2006 01:54 PM

Keeping with your defense, you of all people should understand that humor alone should allow you to enjoy your microwaved ex-best friend (that's the best way to keep it warm, right?).

I worked for two years as a clerk while I attended college and recorded mostly juvenile cases. I am from Central PA, amish country USA, where many young suspender-ed lads came in to court to face horse-and-buggy theft laws that haven't been enforced in most states since 1891. One 16 year old, green-shirt-wearing rebel, brought about a case similar to your story's subject. Okay, exactly like it.

As you probably know, the clerk, DA, and Judge all have access to the day's scheduling. My court schedules, however, only included the crime number. I got so used to most of them that I could tell what each person was being charged with. I noticed an unfamiliar number one day, and soon as the dispostion before it was finished, the Judge cleared the court room of all unnecessary parties.

The DA and I had become rather close, having the same sense of humor, and when the Judge announced that the young amish man was being charged with FIVE counts of sex with an animal, we both burst into laughter, almost causing the case to be reassigned.

The boy's parents caught him standing on a stool fucking a horse (not clear if it was a male's ass, a female's vagina, or a female's ass) all 5 times. They told him if it happened again, they would call the cops. One day the father noticed this particular horse was sick while hooking up another horse to plow. The father left the barn and, when he returned, his son was fucking the horse, which was now dead. Must be a lot nicer not having to use that stool. This way he can look the dead horse in the mouth.

The son was not charged with anything for the 6th time, while the horse was dead, because the DA actually bargained the case down.

My favorite part of this story is that, despite the family owning well over 50 horses, the boy continued to fuck the same horse, even after it's death. THAT is love of an animal, Rex.

Posted by: Mason at March 28, 2006 12:46 PM

To clarify my previous post. The DA knew about it but was trying to keep it from me because she knew I wouldn't be able to control myself. My laughter caused her to laugh as well.

I also have realized that this is not necessarily a case of a necrophilliac, but rather a case of a boy finding something about this horse attractive. I almost felt bad for him. Kind of like the way you feel bad for your friend who gets turned down by a girl he claims he loves. This kid has found a loophole in the whole heart-breaking system. Animals can't turn you down. Besides, if the horse didn't like it, he would've kicked him, right? Like human rape...so I've been told.

Posted by: Mason at March 28, 2006 02:10 PM