The Cerebral Catalyst

First of all, let me welcome my readers to The 12 Days of Captain Fun. What we will discuss may or may not have anything to do with Christmas; we'll see. I write this column somewhat hung over, but still relatively mentally coherent. Today, I went to the mall in search of an advent calendar to reference for these columns. No dice there. I didn't really feel like making the effort, and feel I must apologize for it. What I will offer is the excellent idea I had while browsing the shops.

We passed a Jewelry store and for a time I considered going in and saying that I was looking for an engagement ring for my wife. That way, I would have been able to talk to the gorgeous brunette behind the calendar. I know, sounds like a scummy ploy. Well, when you are as deficient in the relationship area as I am, you think of things like this. Unfortunately, it would have probably taken a flagon of mead to give me the courage to actually do it. I'm a horrible liar. But I'm sure this is something that we all have thought of doing at one point — pretending to be someone else.

Sometimes people just wander off for days, I think it was some sort of syndrome I studied in Psychology. Everyone wants to escape, to become someone else. Maybe during these next two weeks I could invite everyone to get inside of my head. Think Ulysses written by a chronic masturbator. Did I just say that? Now no one will ever go out with me. Oh well. Back to the bunker.

Another thing about shopping that interests me is the cattle factor. People herd around throughout the mall, led along by shiny displays. We are all advertisements anymore. What is the value of wearing a plain T-shirt by Tommy Hilfiger that only says his name on it? Who the fuck cares? What does that have to do with fashion? I could see the point maybe if each designer had radically different clothes, then you wouldn't even need to wear a shirt with their name on it, you would know what you were wearing. I guess I'm just not one for fashion.

I also happened to catch this program on the history channel that featured an electrolysis clinic. I am an Italian man, moderately hairy, but I don't think I could ever go through with something like that. It's just not natural. In the end, we are all simply hairless monkeys. I guess that's where the value of a clean shave man comes from. Those with less hair appear more evolved and less brutish. I guess I am a Neanderthal then. I almost thought about dying my beard once with "Just for Men", but I chucked the idea. Nature must run its course, right? Go gray gracefully. So at this electrolysis clinic, a woman described how they would cultivate the stubble look on actors like Tom Cruise and Ashton Kutcher... etc. They had this one guy in there who was going for the Colin Farrel look. This woman drew all over his face like it was a piece of cloth that she planned on sewing a pattern out of. In the end, he had the perfect three-day stubble. They didn't say how much it was, but I'm guessing some huge exorbitant sum.

Ridiculous, really. There are certain things you just can't fuck with. I mean, sure, you can sculpt your facial hair and wear cream made from baby's skin, but who wants to be a Ken or Barbie doll? I think that there is a reason why we look the way we do, and that if you believe that there is someone out there for everyone, then that person will accept the way you look. There are so many things that people find attractive that cannot be cultivated. You can't instantly pick up a sense of humor overnight. There are things like beauty marks and little imperfections.

This reminds me of a discussion I had once with several of my friends. We were talking about how every person has at least three fetishes. These things come from childhood, mostly. For instance, is anyone familiar with the "Furries" phenomenon? This is where men and women dress up in plush costumes that usually represent animals, furry ones like squirrels and teddy bears, and the like. It's like some goofy part of the rave scene, where girls dress like Tinkerbell and guys dress like a character from Ninja Scroll. And they have sex in these costumes, apparently. The costumes have little holes cut in them, I'm told, and that's how they get it on. Again, an instance of people wanting to be someone else. Morality has nothing to do with fetishes. Sexual attraction and interest in different unique aspects of people and things is natural. I'm not talking about child molesting or rape or anything like that; there are people who place certain kinds of fetishes on that same level. What does this say? Is depravity relevant? In thirty or forty years, will there be Internet porno kiosks everywhere? Will they sell leather whips and gags at Wal-Mart?

So I'd like to know, if I may ask, what fetishes do any of you have? Don't worry, it's extremely confidential, and besides, I know what most of my readers' fetishes probably are because I know the four or five people that actually read this site. (I'll tell you one of mine: Women dressed in office clothing, thigh high stockings, all that good stuff. Sure, a common one, but still the bee's knees for me!)

Kudos,
Captain Fun

Visit Captain Fun's Swarthy Archives.

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Joseph L. Conty, Jr. wears a buffalo hide tunic and sips peach nectar from a chalice. Known to drink multiple flagons of mead for breakfast and chew bear fat for gum, he would like to remind the public that anyone else who dares to use the moniker of "Captain Fun" isn't fit to carry his merkin.

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