The Joys of Sex
I interviewed Alex Comfort, noted author of "The Joys of Sex", with its mouth-watering illustrations of the lusty positions and posturings in the never-ending battle of the sexes (the Sweet Science).
Funny thing, though, author Comfort, with his withered arm, did not look like he could have possibly tasted the joys of his contrivings and connivings.
But you never can tell.
DE GUSTIBUS NIL DISPUTANDUM.
There's no accounting for taste. Taste is in the buds of the beholder.
And besides, it's well known that famous men attract hordes of groupies (he said, polishing his nails on his lapels).
Einstein, for instance, is now revealed to have been, not merely a brain, but a crotch: a real ladies' man. (Il aime les jeunes filles de l'Italie!)
After all, didn't he explain his theory of relativity by analogizing: "If you sit on a hot stove, every minute is an hour. But if your lady sits on your lap, every hour is a minute."
And that, he said, is "relativity". And the old Jew, hearing this from Einstein's own lips, said: "From this, you make a living?"
All of that leads to this lissom limerick:
"What a wonderful family is "STEIN"
There's Gert, and there's Ep, and there's Ein.
Gert's writings are BUNK
Ep's statues are JUNK
And nobody understands EIN."
As Rita Hayworth, who starred in that sexy film "Gilda" once said: "The trouble with the men in my life was, they all went to bed with Gilda, but woke up with Rita!"
("Put the blame on Mame, boys, put the blame on Mame!")
How I wish …