Guest Writer: Mr. James Fletcher

Erik asked me to be a guest writer on his blog, I accepted, thus I created this piece. I’m not sure whether it’s a good piece or bad one, so hard to judge completely opinionated journalistic work. Anyways, I’m supposed to tell you about myself. I’m 19 years old, I go to Rhodes College, it’s in Memphis Tennessee which grants me nightly lullabies of gang shootings and police sirens, oh, how I love college. Got it. Spark it. Exhale. Enjoi.

West of Fact and Laced with Curiosity

Okay, I admit this was all supposed to be about Kanye West. I’m sorry there is only so much I can write about the hip-hop world’s most pompous jackass. What will this sporadic post be about? I don’t know. I don’t succumb to the rookie pressure of my first blog post, yes I’m a blog virgin, bear with me.  But anyways, what I’m gonna concentrate on is Victoria’s Secret. Yes, the store every male almost shuffles by, whose beautiful-woman-clad windows converts men to window-shopping. First, how the hell can I find Victoria and thank her for the quickest way for guys to get an erection off of voluptuous lace and black silk! I mean, c’mon my girlfriend already showed what she bought from Victoria, and I have to admit the images I’ve produced have kept me pitching a tent all night. But away from late-night, risqué imaginations. Second, I’d like to know Victoria’s secret. That’s plausible to ask. Maybe I want to aspire to become a women’s lingerie designer. It’s a dream job not every man thinks about. What college degree would it take to get into that industry? Alas, I digress.

            What really strikes me hard about Victoria’s Secret(no pun intended), is how after all these years what the woman designs, if Victoria is a woman, never gets old. Not in a literal sense, sorry you few men whose Valentine’s day gifts never saw the light of day, but in that how can she keep the female body looking so god-damn and the male mind so completely dumbfounded. You would’ve thought by now that the guys would’ve figured out, “oh lingerie, it’s time for sex!” That is not the case ladies, far from it! Lingerie keeps the male mind stunned, probably the only time where the communication between the male membrane and his brain is completely shut off. Yes, ladies take that one to the bank. It’s completely true. When a guy sees his girlfriend in lingerie they don’t know what to do; it’s the hottest thing in the world. Personally, I’m not sure whether or not to superman-rip my clothes of or fall over and go into euphoric shock. I suppose every guy responds in the same way, unless you’re Kanye then you piss yourself while lace-clad hookers knock your shit dead then torch ya ass! I like to believe that Victoria understands how powerful the male imagination can be, a syndrome we’re stuck with, Kanye too. Victoria knows that as long as her lingerie keeps everything essential covered, she keeps everyone guessing, she could show you but she’s not gonna. She exposes a lot of the skin without giving away the goods. At the same time all the lingerie seems to just be barely hanging together, one slip of some string and voila! Unfortunately that’s never the case, the lingerie stays on, the secret is kept, and the men stay stunned.

            In short, sometimes in order to succeed you’ve got to keep the consumer, husband, wife, or reader, in this case, guessing. Wait minute…infatuations with white dykes? Giving a Taylor Swift a broadcasted bitchslap? Randomly hating on George W. Bush hate with Michael Meyers? Yes! I can include Mr. West! Cause really, who has any fucking clue what goes through that cats head. So I guess Victoria and Kanye do share similarities, at any given time their mystifying attributes will make you ponder. Antics and lace, ladies and gentlemen, rash antics and black lace, two things that always make you wonder when you see them. They catch that spark of curiosity and then ignite the entire mind, flames slowly burn out, and their person smolders for weeks inside your thoughts. Before you were just enjoying the day, simple thoughts went through your mind, then those clothes came off and that black lace bustier, with the frilly thong to match, appeared right in front of your eyes. Yup, you’re not thinking about your next batch of laundry, no sir, all that is on your mind is whether or not you’re about to get a lap dance followed by a sound happy ending.